


The Matchmaker

by LeeAusten



Series: The Austen Adventures [2]
Category: Emma - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel is Claire Novak's Parent, Castiel is Older Than Dean Winchester, Dean Loves Taylor Swift, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel supernatural - Freeform, Dom Dean Winchester, Drunk Castiel, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, F/M, Gentle Dom Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jo Harvelle - Freeform, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Supernatural - Freeform, angst destiel, balthazar is gay, castiel and dean have been best friends for years, castiel and mary were best friends, castiel is knightley, castiel is older than dean, castiel is secretly in love with dean, charlie and dorothy are a couple, charlie becomes dean's best friend, dean and castiel first kiss, dean castiel - Freeform, dean castiel supernatural, dean is emma woodhouse, destiel first kiss, destiel first time, destiel smut, destiel spn, ellen is dean's nanny, happy ending destiel, jane austen destiel, jody and donna, john wants destiel to happen, sam and jess, slow burn destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 326,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeAusten/pseuds/LeeAusten
Summary: Dean is always trying to matchmake his family; Sam, Ellen and even Charlie to persons that he believe they're far too suitable for.But what he never realized before is that Castiel, his own best friend and constant companion since he was born, might possibly be the perfect match for HIM.Everyone, even his own father sees them as a potential couple, except Dean, until the truth comes out and changes everything in a small village called Littleton.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean and Cas, Destiel, Destiel Supernatural - Relationship
Series: The Austen Adventures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715359
Comments: 170
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the Castiel in this story is very much like Misha Collins, Dean is like alternate universe 'posh' Dean from Season 15.  
> This fic is not from the same era as Jane Austen books.  
> It's based in 2020.  
> Also, they do not have a British accent.  
> They're very American but Castiel may be slightly more sophisticated and adapt a very gentleman-like persona as similar to Knightley.

> Dean Winchester, without a doubt handsome, absolutely clever and filthy rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-five years in the world with very little to distress or vex him.

Except for the constant teasing from his dear best friend; Castiel Novak; a very sophisticated and jovial man of forty-five, who possessed just as much wealth to be considered as one of the most admirable bachelors in the town of New Hampshire. And whilst the steady flow of ladies happened over the years like a bubbling stream rushing towards a waterfall’s peak, he still remained single and eligible although his protests on the matter could be very well considered as suspicious.

“Look at them frolicking about. She’s going to destroy those Charlotte Russe boots!” Castiel remarked, gesturing out of the window, the other hand resting comfortably on his left hip. “Sam should know better than to chase a young lady like Jessica in a thunderstorm. Why are you laughing at me?”

Green, mischievous eyes latched onto blue ocean ones and Dean was too determined to forgo the opportunity of teasing. “You’re like a miserable old man sometimes, you know that? I forget that you haven’t hit fifty as yet.”

“Miserable but still tolerable to _you_. And besides, I’m not the one who plucked a gray from his temple just last week.” Castiel tapped the spot on his head with a small smile.

“A blonde strand,” Dean corrected, slightly wounded but nevertheless defensive, and always he was bound to protect his reputation. “Fairer than the rest on my head which is all dark blonde by the way.”

“You know what they say about blondes,” Castiel’s expression remained desirously humored as he latched onto the chase occurring, where Sam was trying to grab Jessica’s ponytail. 

Green eyes return to the scene unfolding outside the window. “Oh, you better mean that we have all the fun and not that I’m dumb because by my age, you probably never read half the number of books I’ve read.”

“Ha! I’ll have you know that I read the entire library in Cross Street ten times over. _Ten_ times, mind you! Afterwards, I hitchhiked through the country and devoured every other institution in close resemblance to one with nothing but feasting on bread and cheese.”

“I can’t imagine you hitchhiking,” Dean laughed deliberately, “you were probably one of those wide-eyed alien looking teens that scared the living hell out of any driver passing by.”

“Keep on teasing me.”

“You know you love me for doing it.”

Castiel snorted, bit back his laughter and the two considered the chasing game in the gardens below the window. 

Sam, eighteen at the time, discovered that Jessica contained a kind of wild spirit that he latched on to like a moth to a flame. In times of desperation, the pair was constantly glued to each other in heavy, excited whispers that settled on topics most suited; from books to travelling across the world. Occasionally though, as Sam chased her through the gardens and his yellow Wellingtons splashed up more muddy water, Jessica’s laughter pealed through the air and overrode the rumble of thunder.

Although he was quite settled on contentment from other sources as opposed to love, when Dean witnessed the bond between his brother and girlfriend, his heart yearned a little to become familiar with intimacy between two lovers. But then when he pondered on the efforts and the diversion of time most well-spent on reading, traversing the rolling grasslands and mountains and doing the other things he adored, Dean believed that the best course in life was to avoid love. And so he wandered freely with the main intent to do quite the opposite.

“You boys hungry?” Ellen’s light footsteps sounded on the polished floor as she joined them, dressed as usual in faded blue jeans and a light orange floral shirt. “What are you two looking at so intently? Cas looks like he’s watching the lawns get wrecked by…oh.” Immediately, her attention rested on Jessica tumbling onto the wet grass and a tall, lanky Sam tickling her middle. “Ain’t that the sweetest sight.”

“What is sweet about rolling around in mud?” Castiel frowned, hands behind his back, “by all means, he’s just going to bring his dirty clothes in and have you do the laundry. Wouldn’t you rather they played inside?”

Ellen threw the younger man a look of small surprise and her shoulders shook from containing her laughter. “Laundry ain’t so bad. They’re having fun. It’s young love as we call it. You remember how we were at that age, smitten and daring and making all the bad decisions.”

“True, true,” Castiel nodded in agreement. “I’m just taking into consideration your pile of laundry after he comes in.”

“ _I’m_ hungry,” Dean piped up, evidently unattached to the conversation and desiring a change of topic. “I’m going to make a wild guess and say that Cas isn’t because he eats like clockwork. 6, 12 and 6. Don’t you get bored?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, the other man shook his head. “Was I a man in possession of a stomach like yours, I wouldn’t be bored at all. Eating your way through the damn pantry like a ferocious beast. Where do you tuck it all?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dean winked, tongue between two perfect rows of teeth and he received quite an intrigued look. It was one that gradually changed into a gaze quite capable of disarming and erasing the light humor. But when Castiel checked his revealed curiosity, the expression was quickly replaced with a blank one. “Not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid,” the younger man continued boldly.

The corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkled a little after the two of them intently considered each other. “You’ve never been properly _laid_ in your twenty-two years on this planet. Don’t tell lies in the presence of your dear nanny.”

“Don’t bring me into you two pecking at each other.”

Ellen oftentimes was witness to the bickering and resorted to an observer role. And she was successful in collecting a wealth of knowledge over the years to ascertain that the two rascals were a little too fond to include her in their games. Whereas she would rather stay out of the quarrels and debates that led to topics intelligently tackled, Ellen was much more the type of woman who desired simple and practical things instead of theoretical explorations of the mind.

“How would you know whether I’ve been laid properly or not?” Dean never surrendered. Accepting defeat by having the last word was never included in his DNA, especially in relation to his best friend. 

Castiel however, digested his comments and smiled nevertheless, quite satisfied when the desirous scowl settled on the handsome face of his most admirable companion.

Had it been twenty-two years already, since Mary handed over the squirming infant swathed in the softest yellow blanket? And good golly, he was enraptured by the pools of green, warm and mellow enough to drown his very soul inside their depths. Until now, Dean’s eyes contained the same kind of quality that matched the grasslands outside. And when the sparkle like little firecrackers ignited inside those orbs, Castiel instantly braced himself for one of two things; either an endless round of banter or an invitation to engage in a rather wicked game of some sort.

But Dean was rather much too spoilt to even ascertain any other way than his own, all because his father resorted to showering him with good blessings a little more than Sam. Why? The younger Winchester had always been the wild streak in the family; the one who brought home the girls from the age of sixteen and included them in dinners without introducing his father. And more than often, Sam boasted about his determination to migrate from the dull town of New Hampshire to live somewhere else a little more exciting.

Maybe that statement initiated the fights between himself and John, although before Mary died, her wishes were only to watch her sons flourish in any way they saw most suited. And when she passed away two years after Sam’s birth, she left behind a rather determined father, eager to please and to prove to the town that he could raise his boys with a relaxed method of discipline but enough room for expanding their education.

John always wanted them to be humble young men, of good stature and at least five years practice in his mechanic shop. He believed that theory only equipped a man with smarts suited for good conversation. But practical things like getting under a car and fixing the engine worked up enough muscle to keep their masculinity in balance. And although Sam’s limbs extended rather much more than his older brother’s, he managed to mold his physique quite spectacularly enough to catch the eye of many girls. 

Dean, on the other hand, was _too posh_ and soft around the edges, lamenting about getting his hands greasy enough to taint the pages of his books. Knowledge was like a drug to him, for since he was a toddler, Castiel had picked up where Mary left off by ensuring that Dean’s head was filled with all the fairytales and well-selected classics to entertain him during any time of the day. And since his best friend and god father’s titles ranged from Moby Dick to The Economist to a copy of Vogue or Entertainment Weekly, Dean’s conversations never dulled anyone.

“They’ll be married soon,” he said confidently, tugging at the collar of his black and red plaid shirt. The sleeves strained from well-formed biceps that were acquired from a good enough dedication to weight-lifting after two severe breakups. That was another story for another time though. “You wait and see. I’ll give it about five months. Seven tops. Knowing Sammy, he’ll buy the ring next month.”

“Must you always do this?” Castiel frowned.

Dean, on the other hand, offered up knitted eyebrows. “What? Look sexy? Of course. One of us has to do it, dammit.”

“I’m talking about matchmaking every single person in this town,” Castiel’s cheeks tinged red though, a blush barely there and although such a reaction went unnoticed by the other man, Ellen caught on fairly fine. “Contrary to popular beliefs, Dean, this town does not contain a set of dolls for you to play with.”

“He’s talking to me about playing with dolls,” green eyes turned to Ellen who sighed and smiled, “ _me_. As if the collection he has in his big, fancy mansion over there,” he gestured at Castiel’s house looming through the trees, “doesn’t exist. You know, you can be such a hypocrite.”

“Indulge me on my oh so boring flaws.”

Dean leaned onto the frame of the window, arms folded and spared a smile. “So what if I match people, huh? I’m good at it. When have I ever failed at pairing up two people who didn’t like each other?”

“Even if they are in love with each other” Castiel sidestepped the question and smiled at Sam and Jessica sitting side by side, admiring the sunset through the trees. “I cannot see it happening soon, a marriage, I mean. Things need time to blossom into such serious affairs. And I will not encourage you to intervene in any way, Dean.”

“When do I ever do that, huh? Two people, if they complement each other, are far too easy to bring together than two complete opposites. Take Sam for instance. He’s daring and adventurous, just as Jess is. He wants to move out of here and have as much as three kids. So does Jess. All the pieces are aligned on the board.”

“We complement each other too,” Castiel avoided eye contact, “don’t we? So why aren’t we aligned together, as you so poetically describe it?”

Dean sighed and shook his head, obviously irritated by the debate when in his mind, he was only doing his brother a lot of good rather than bad. “You’re not even remotely the romantic type.”

Ellen watched the smile slip off of Castiel’s countenance like a mask and she immediately gathered her wits enough to settle the score.

“Dean, that’s enough teasing for one afternoon. I think you should go and take a shower before dinner instead of harassing poor Cas. Go on!” she shushed him out of the room and as he left, Dean offered a long scrutiny on his friend’s character. “And get those books in order. Always have me talking to him like he’s still a kid,” she said to Castiel afterwards. “I swear, I still want to tan his hide even now because of his pride. And you encourage him too!”

“Me?” Castiel pointed at himself and appeared shocked. “Hardly.”

Dean was not the type of young man to entertain any kind of conversation about himself falling in love. 

As he packed his novels away on the writing desk where his laptop sat with a screen containing course material from ‘Caribbean Folklore’, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness away. 

Castiel never faltered from his constant teasing and somehow Ellen determined that enough was enough. But why? She always admired their arguments, excusing herself because she didn’t want to get in between their profound bonding moments. But to suddenly discipline him like that…

He slowly sat by the desk and stared at the floating bubbles serving as a screensaver and although Dean thought about the last words he uttered to Castiel, he still couldn’t figure out where he went wrong.

Castiel’s biggest flaw was his inability to seem any less interested in anything Dean had to offer in their conversations. And if he ever decided that something was unaccepted as a topic, then the usual banter would follow, containing the perfect scolding that always left Dean feeling a little bruised but a little more aware.

Maybe it was Dean’s reference to Castiel’s doll collection. 

Ellen was always of the opinion that trying to belittle another man’s masculinity was an undeserving injustice. She raised him and Sam to respect people from all walks of life and didn’t expect any kind of prejudice to color their views on others. So, maybe that was the reason behind her shooing him from the room. But little did she know that Castiel’s mother’s dolls were ugly enough to be stowed away in the attic, stemming from a rather distasteful opinion by the man who owned the estate.

But that was rather a prickly subject to venture into and what he required was something of equal distraction to override the unsettling feeling after what occurred by the windows. If there was one thing that thrilled Dean, it was the rapturous feeling of pairing up two people and witnessing them fall in love effortlessly. Oftentimes, he really thought that he possessed the ability to initiate love stories that would serve as wonderful books. And although he wasn’t an exceptional writer, Dean’s pride in relation to his gift never died down because he kept on succeeding.

Now two years later after declaring that his brother would be successfully paired with Jessica, the couple was living in New York and the proud parents of twins and a newest addition; little baby Dean. 

If this wasn’t a good sign to anyone who disapproved of Dean’s premonition, then he believed them to be simply spiteful in their intentions because Sam deserved nothing but the best. He had spent a large amount of his life balancing school life with everything social and his biggest dream was always to excel at law and become a prominent lawyer in New York. And now to have three children of his own at the age of twenty, nothing else thrilled the younger Winchester more than getting ahead in life.

How did this make Dean feel?

Quite rapturous to say the least but somewhat saddened from the actuality of thinking of his sibling residing so many miles away. With nothing but himself, a father who worked tirelessly in the workshop at the back of the house and a forever joyful Castiel who stopped by every evening at least for dinner, Dean still missed his brother. He missed his funny jokes and his stories about girls chasing after him because of his brains. He missed Sam talking to him about how the law worked and what happened to people who broke it. 

The passion in his brother’s eyes when he debated on the injustice of the death penalty and the lack of rights for animals across the world. Or how Sam brought home pets constantly that both of them tended to over the years. Covering for his brother whilst he snuck out to hang in the mountains with his friends, chasing the wind and fire with good old ghost stories that Dean never grew tired of hearing. Or how he used to raid Sam’s room, stealing his perfumes and hair supplies because as much as Dean was evidently the eldest, Sam’s maturity and experiences pushed him a good few bars higher than his brother.

But in terms of love, Dean was never the lucky one. 

There once was a situation which involved no other that Ellen’s daughter Jo Harvelle for less than a year. But that was too tragic to elaborate on.

Lisa on the other hand, was just a fling that lasted for five months and ended abruptly without any further knowledge about why the relationship was terminated. And when Dean reflected on their attachment, he often wondered if they even had deserving chemistry as many people professed. What she possessed in looks, he equally matched in his handsome features, therefore portraying to the school that they were a beautiful couple. 

But she lacked his depth in certain areas that only one person in his life understood, and although Castiel was absolutely the most handsome man Dean ever crossed paths with, both of them still remained completely single.

Sometimes when he thought of Castiel’s personality, Dean favored a warm description of nothing but the most honest kind of admiration. If there was one thing about his best friend that he loved the most; then it was Castiel’s attire and mannerism. The deliberateness in stocking up on an abundance of tailored suits was something that the man found joy in over the years. His most favored tones ranged from jet black to crimson and chocolate brown. 

Castiel simply exuberated the definition of a gentleman in every shape and form of the word, except for the ridiculous khaki trench coat that he slipped into to cross the mile of distance between his estate and the Winchesters. One time too many, Dean wanted to yank the article of clothing from the coat rack and conceal it in the attic somewhere where it would never be found again. But Castiel without his trench coat stepping through the grasslands as Dean admired him from the window on the third floor was like Cher without her raven hair.

Therefore, the enigma of a man who Dean grew up to admire and love beyond his understanding was always his constant companion. And their bond was one of the reasons why no one else could appeal to him just enough to be considered as worthy of his affections. 

So, when Sam asked after his brother’s love life during their Thanksgiving dinner, no one seemed remotely inclined to comment on the topic. 

In fact, Castiel immediately voiced his disapproval in the bitter cold weather turning his toes into icicles every single night. Then after rousing John on the topic of soaking his feet in a tub of salts, Sam’s question was lost in the wind. But knowing the younger Winchester all too well, Dean was never of the impression that his brother’s memory would fail him. And after wolfing down their warm dinners comprising of a perfect turkey and spread of mashed potatoes and other dishes prepared by Ellen and Jessica, the taller Winchester cornered his brother by the fireplace.

“You’re glowing from domesticity and it’s making you look soft around the edges.”

Dean rolled his eyes and prepared himself to be hammered with criticism that always was delivered in good humor. “I like how things are, man. Calm, relaxed. No drama to give me any migraines.”

“Meaning me,” Sam chuckled. “I know you miss me so bad around here. So get this, there’s this girl in New York who’s studying Folklore. Same level as me. She’s got a catchy personality that I think you’d really like. Nice ass too. Good rack.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest smiling. “And I figure that if I get your permission and give her your number…”

Dean immediately shook his head and appeared disinterested. “You keep forgetting you suck at pairing me up with girls. I don’t think you understand how funny it’s become.”

“Can’t say that I never try. What’s wrong with going out on a date? For goodness sake, you don’t want to end up like _Cas_ …” When Sam was on the receiving end of a glare that contained fire inside green orbs, he retreated to collecting his glass of wine from on top of the hearth. 

“Cas is very content just the way he is.”

“ _Is_ he?” Sam inclined his head and glanced at the older man tickling the baby wrapped inside Jess’ arms. “He seems fine on the outside but when he goes home to his lonely, empty house with his cats, don’t you think that he wants to fall asleep and wake up next to someone else? Dude, Cas is sad.”

“No, he isn’t,” Dean frowned at his best friend’s happy disposition. “Look at him. He’s like the softest bundle of mush, obviously at peace with being single.”

“I’ve heard,” Sam lowered his voice and ducked closer to his brother, “that he’s loved someone for years now that he can’t get over no matter how much he tries. It’s sad when you think of it. Imagine loving someone that much. And then not being able to have them.”

Wherever Sam received his information from, perhaps the person had the misfortune of listening to gossip because Castiel never mentioned anything pertaining to such a subject. Had he been smitten over anyone, then wouldn’t Dean be the first to become aware of it? Perhaps when you resided in a place such as New Hampshire, conversations grew dull after a while and could only become interesting if one tended to partake in an abundance of lies.

“He’s not...in _love_ , I mean, he doesn’t do that sort of thing,” Dean frowned at the older man who spared him a warm smile. “I’ve heard some pretty screwed up things around here but Cas, in love? No freaking way, man. The dude’s busy fixing people’s finances and committed to The Business Insider. I don’t think he has room in his life for someone else.”

“I think you should stop being so damn proud and accept the help,” Ellen was saying to John, the two of them sharing a plate of truffles. “What’s wrong with an extra pair of hands? You get yourself stuck under one of those vehicles, who’s going to yank you out?”

John sighed, swirling his glass of brandy slowly around in the small glass as the liquid caught the light from the fireplace. “All I’m saying is that I’ve been working on cars all my life by myself. I don’t see why I need to hire someone else. Anyway, Bobby needs the money and he’s damn good at fixing things. Better than being holed up in that goddamn shack in the wilderness.”

“He can’t be talking about _uncle_ Bobby,” Sam whispered, drawing in Dean’s attention that was still latched onto Castiel honing in on the baby’s button nose. “For fuck’s sake, the man’s ancient.”

“He’s not ancient, you ass. He’s not even sixty yet and he’s been dad’s best friend for ages now. Just that he stopped coming around after his wife died a few years ago. That kind of tragedy hits some people way more than others.”

Sam sighed and regretted his statement. “Like dad.”

“Yeah, but two people can’t comfort each other whilst going through that kind of trauma. Dad lost mom and look how it wrecked him.” Dean referred to their father’s obsession in fixing things under the hoods of vehicles and spare jobs around the town like plumbing. “I don’t think dad will ever stop trying to prove to himself that he can bring back a car from a wreck but he can’t bring back mom. Things like that just don’t go away.”

“I get what you mean.”

“And now that Sam’s living so far away, I can’t imagine why…” John’s lamentations on his youngest son’s departure to live in New York would never stop. “Why couldn’t you just do an online course like your brother? The Men of Letters’ College has plenty recognition programs.”

“I want to be a bigshot lawyer, remember dad?” Sam said sarcastically. He sipped some wine and met Jess’ eyes who sent him nothing but a silent warning to calm down. “Forever the rebellious son!” he turned to his brother. “You know, he couldn’t give a damn about asking after my grades or how we’re managing. You’d think he couldn’t care less.”

Dean plucked white fur from his purple and black plaid shirt and immediately decided that the culprit was Castiel’s cat Duchess. “He cares enough to be paying for your tuition,” he said softly, “the least you can do is respect him for that.”

“I _do_ respect him,” Sam contributed as Jess laughed at something Castiel whispered in her ear. “Believe me I do. But he can’t expect me to stay in this town and feel good about it. I’ve always felt trapped here. And I’m not saying that anything is wrong about staying here but it’s not for me.”

“We’re just different, Sammy. You and I. And I’ve always supported you broadening your horizons, no pun intended. For me, all I want is right here.”

“In more ways than you realize.”

“Huh?” Dean frowned at his brother whose smile never faded.

“Wonderful that Castiel is making my wife laugh more than I’ve done in a fortnight. I’m feeling really jealous now. Excuse me.” Sam, clutching his glass of wine, made his way towards the pair by the window and very soon, more laughter erupted from that corner of the room.

The twins sat on the floor babbling in baby language and already at the age of two, they had a generous amount of shiny locks like their father. 

Whilst Dean was left to stand alone in solace, he marveled on the contentment of his family, all gathered once again under one roof. The warmth of the fireplace, just like old times, when John would try to explain how cars worked to Ellen and she would laugh at his passion. When Sam sat on the window seat, telephone tucked between an ear and shoulder, whispering sweet nothings to some lucky girl. And Dean would curl up in his favorite chair; his mother’s red velvet covered armchair that still smelled like jasmine and vanilla and he turned the world off whilst escaping in novels.

John oftentimes told them that Dean inherited his playfulness from his mother. She also possessed the same interest in books that broadened her imagination without stepping a foot out of New Hampshire. And equally content as she had been with visiting other places between the pages of her books, Dean sought the same comfort effortlessly.

“They’re donating coats to the church for the less fortunate, I hear,” Ellen said, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with John. “Couple kids down by the mountains ain’t got much as shelter. Just a roof over their heads.”

“Which is enough when you consider what we had to live through in winters. I’ll tell you this,” John rested his glass on the arm of the chair and looked at Dean, “many times we shivered our asses over trying to bundle up in front of a small fire. There were ten of us living in a shack as small as the kitchen. And if it was one thing we were grateful for, was our mother feeding us some good warm soup. Simple things are most appreciated, Dean.”

“It’s the small things that go unnoticed,” Ellen offered warmly with a smile. “But then Dean knows nothing about simple things because he’s spoiled rotten.”

“And proud too,” quipped Dean. “Guess I’m the fortunate one who lives in a fancy house with enough food and books to keep me content. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not aware of the beauty in simplicity. Books are my best friends.”

“And me!” Castiel piped up from across the room, offering a wide smile and wearing a chocolate brown suit. “How dare you forget me?”

Dean stuck his tongue out and in turn, blue eyes only sparkled and after the two of them chuckled from being so playful as always, the rest of the room merely digested the scene with small smiles.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like if you can help me get some of the donations over to the church sometime this week,” Ellen was saying to Dean. “I’d ask Father Crowley to send someone around but then he barely has time.”

“I’d be more than happy to drive you around to collect,” Dean offered a smug look at his brother. “Because I’m very responsible and take charitable work to heart.”

“I buy a loaf of bread for a beggar who sits outside our apartment complex every Wednesday,” Sam provided proudly. “I’ll have you know also that I have a job and I pay taxes. At least some of it goes towards the pension scheme. You know what’s funny about Dean apart from his existence?” Sam asked Castiel by his side whose cheeks were flushed, “his turtleneck sweaters that he brings out every Christmas.”

“Looking as much as a rich kid as ever,” Ellen laughed. “Pity that the glasses make him look full out nerdy since he was six.”

“He _is_ a book nerd…” John contributed. “I’m afraid that he will become married to his books and never find a wife. Then I’ll have to auction his ass off to the highest bidder. Then and only then will he leave me in peace to start a family of his own.”

Dean sighed, turned into the depth of the soft, warm chair and literally felt as if he was engulfed in one of his mother’s hugs. “Leave it all up to you guys to torture me during every damn family gathering.”

“I rather much like the sweaters and the glasses,” Castiel said fondly from the window. The baby’s fingers curled around his pinky. “And correction; he’s not a book nerd. He’s a bookworm.”

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean nodded, and gestured at the other man proudly. “Only you would understand and defend me.”

“Anyone else surprised that Castiel came to Dean’s rescue?” Sam’s gaze swept around the room as he offered a wide smile. “No takers? Even Jess knows the truth. Here’s a thought, let’s find out if Castiel has a female twin so that Dean can finally tie the knot and get out of our hair. Castiel, do you have a twin?”

“I do not.”

“Perhaps a female cousin that shares the same likes as you do…”

Castiel shrugged. “There’s only one of me, I’m afraid.”

For some odd reason though, although he was immediately humored by the comments by his brother, Dean sunk into the chair and inwardly reflected on the truth. 

The statement was rather bold; to ascertain that he would be romantically inclined to a female version of Castiel. But Dean never before wandered on the notion of finding his best friend so intimately appealing. When he thought about Castiel, he merely remembered the warm and fuzzy feeling of contentment and absolute adoration for their deep conversations.

“Most of my family resides in Europe, as you know by now,” Castiel supplied, eyes wandering to Dean’s open expression of fondness. “Well with the exception of my very gay brother Balthazar who simply refuses to part with me with the main intent of torturing me. Apart from him, my sister Anna is comfortable in Italy as a nun in a convent. My brother Gabriel is somewhere swimming in money in France and Michael is a lady’s man in Spain.”

“Very cultured family,” John remarked in good spirits. He adored Castiel’s friendship and had grown really close to him over the years, even before the boys were born. “I remember meeting your mother. Naomi was always as stiff as poker and never spared the rod whilst bringing you guys up.”

“May her not so kindred spirit rest in peace,” Castiel raised an invisible glass and everyone followed suit. “Which reminds me, I am offering up one of my fifteen rooms in my estate if you and your wife with the twins and this handsome fellow,” he poked baby Dean’s nose, “would prefer to stay somewhere else.”

“Show off,” Dean snorted and rose up from the couch, stretching like a cat. “And no, Sam isn’t staying in your estate before I get that privilege. Can you believe I’ve never stayed at his place?” he directed at Jess who laughed.

“There’s a first for everything,” she said shrugging. “Maybe you two can plan a sleepover.”

When John noticed Ellen and Sam exchanging familiar looks after Dean’s open statement, he chuckled because nothing slipped past his nose. “I think I’ll retire to bed now.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam, of course, had a bone to pick. “Are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room here?”

“What elephant?” Ellen asked peering around the setting whilst chuckling, and it was clear as day that she wanted to divert the conversation. “There’s no elephant in here.”

“I’m so tired all of a sudden,” Jess said quietly, handing over the baby to his father that was staring wide-eyed at everyone. “I think I’ll get the twins to bed early. You men have a good one. And remember Sam, don’t stick your nose into something that doesn’t involve you.”

“When have I _ever_ done that?” he watched his wife scoop up the twins from the floor, their little legs dangling behind Jess. 

When the only occupants of the room were Sam, Dean and Castiel along with the baby, the former sighed dramatically. For a full minute, the older Winchester studied the view beyond the window containing a dark night littered with lights from houses through the trees. There was a winter storm coming in as early as December, but the most thrilling part of that time of year for Dean was the excessive bundling up indoors and the warm fires. It was the kind of weather to read extensively.

Sam on the other hand chose to sip his wine whilst eyeing Castiel boldly. The obvious intent in his scrutiny was received quite successfully by the other man, who coolly kept their gaze locked. And although an abundance of accusations and denials passed between them in silence, their dispositions revealed nothing. Because for many years, Castiel’s abundant interest in Dean never spared Sam’s keen pair of eyes. The fondness on the older man’s face was too easy to decipher if one simply conducted an examination for a full minute. And in that moment, after Dean waltzed up to the pair, hugging himself and decked out in a long-sleeved red wool sweater, Sam wasn’t allowing Castiel the room to explore his brother’s features without being caught in the act.

“This damn weather, huh?” Dean wandered closer to the window, slipping between the two other men as if creating a wall of obstructing their intimidating stares at each other. “Cozy.”

Deliberately, Castiel’s gaze followed and lowered guiltily, obviously deciding to taunt Sam’s exploration on his feelings. And when the younger Winchester highlighted that the other man was openly checking out his brother’s ass, his eyebrows arched perfectly and Sam smiled from ear to ear.

“Perfect weather to bundle up preferably with someone else. But since you two know nothing about that, I don’t pity you. In fact,” Sam carefully transferred baby Dean into Castiel’s cradled arms, “I have to confess that I’d like to run along up to bed now. You know…since I have someone to sleep with and all…”

“So just because you managed to snag a woman, you’re a bigshot now,” Dean turned around and smiled. “Look at you, Sammy. All grown up and happy and outshining your big brother. You know, some of us are actually happy enough by yourselves. And honestly, I’ve never been lucky to sleep with someone next to me except for Ellen when I was a kid. So, I don’t know what that feels like. But hey, go ahead and feel good about boasting.”

Sam was so well-versed in his brother’s character that he instantly detected the crumbling interior. “I’m not boasting, Dean. All I’m saying is, you have options. And I just wish that you’d choose the most obvious one.”

“What options, Sammy?” Dean stared, clearly confused about the subtle hints that were turning into annoying flies buzzing around them. “What are you even talking about?”

Sam scoffed. “Can’t you see what’s in front of you?”

“The…” Dean glanced towards the window, appearing confused, “view outside of a…ripe snowstorm? My brother who is beginning to make me worry about his sanity and my best friend who is obviously as confused as I am by your –"

“Dude, when are you going to wake the hell up?”

“I am just going to make myself a cup of tea,” Castiel said softly, his countenance weakening after pleading with Sam to divert from the topic. And handing over the baby to his father, he spared a bashful look at Dean, then stepped out of the room without another word.

“See? You got him upset by your stupid banter which makes no sense by the way.”

“Right, because you’re as blind as you’ve ever been. You’ve become too posh and comfortable like a hen.”

“Bitch –”

“Jerk,” Sam provided immediately, moving away from the window to shelter his son from the coldness seeping through the cracks. “You know, Dean, all I want is to see you happy and you aren’t happy. Not like this, holed up in this house with dad. And I mean sure, you’re as introverted as a man can ever get, but you need to understand that there is more to life like getting out there and…meeting people. Seeing the world maybe. When are you even going to come visit us in New York, huh?”

Dean settled himself on the chair in front of the fire and stared at the burning embers pensively. Little did everyone know that comfort resided at home because he was a bit too frightened to face the rest of the world on his own. Up to then, Dean was rather much reserved in a small group of people who he became familiar with over the years. But to extend beyond Littleton and stretch his wings in a manner of speaking; all of it covered him in scenarios where he could become lost or overwhelmed by a place like New York.

“It’s not like you don’t have a way to get to us. You have the Impala that sits out there in the garage, aching for you to take her for a spin but you don’t,” Sam was rambling on now, clearing concerned about his brother and equally fatigued. “Life isn’t about books alone, Dean. You need to get your head out of the pages and live a little because it’s one thing to read about love and match people up who fall in love. But it’s so much more colorful when you’re the one who’s experiencing it.”

“I’ve never been in love,” Dean said so softly, his expression stolid. “And even if it hit me, I probably wouldn’t know what it was because I’m not meant for it.”

Sam, after spending a considerable time debating on the meaning behind his brother’s words, discovered that his heartstrings tugged painfully. And perching on the arm of the chair, he sighed because if there was one person who deserved love, then it was Dean. Thus far, Dean proved that he could tend to his own happiness quite abundantly but apart from that, companionship lacked in so many areas where a mere friendship with Castiel could not suffice. Because it was delightful as it was for his brother to have such a fond best friend, romantic-wise and sexually, Dean also must have needs. And when Sam highlighted the obvious downcast looks when the topic of romance was brought up, he decided that his brother wasn’t even aware of how dissatisfied he was.

“You’ve got to stop putting yourself down like that. Not because your standards are high, that means that there’s not someone out there who can’t reach them. Maybe you’ve already met the person but you don’t feel like you deserve to be loved. But Dean, there is someone for everyone and I don’t think you really need to look that hard to find yours.”

The wind suddenly howled outside like a wounded beast and the heavy rustle of the leaves in the forest was musical. Then after he unearthed a small yawn from a day of exhaustion, Sam bundled the baby up and gently eased him into his uncle’s arms. 

“There’s nobody for me, Sammy,” Dean said, obviously trying to appear unaffected. He rocked the baby slowly, admiring the perfect little face. “I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Well not in this lifetime anyway.”

“Marriage is a big leap but don’t you ever want to…you know, _satisfy_ or _be_ satisfied?”

“You mean sex?” Dean considered his brother with a small smile and concluded that someone indeed must have spiked Sam’s drink. “Really? Like, we’re actually going there now. At seven in the night. In front of a baby,” he produced the sleeping infant and stared.

“He hasn’t quite mastered the English language as yet, don’t worry. Gurgles might be more down his alley. What I’m saying is that most men have needs and those needs are satisfied by someone else because your hand tends to get too tired eventually. If you know what I’m saying...”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Dean, I am your brother, and I deeply care about you holding in your tensions which should be released by a suitable girlfriend…or _boyfriend_ if the need arises –”

“Can you just shut the hell up now?” Dean’s cheeks were slightly crimson but perhaps a little more of a consequence from the topic of sex than the warmth from the fireplace. “Is he teething already?”

“I’d be worried if he is because he’s only three months,” Sam frowned. “Then again, his mother is a biter.”

“Jesus,” Dean leant his head back onto the chair and prayed silently that his brother would magically disappear. “I regret looking forward to your visit because for some odd reason, you’re hell bent on trying to convince me that I need a woman. Which I don’t, by the way.”

“And that’s fine!” Sam rushed out, offering a look of relief because they were clearly making progress bit by bit. “Another man would do the job quite nicely too. As I’ve heard, but not experienced. I mean, I’d be really accepting if you ended up with a man who is more than ten years older than you, possibly twenty years and might also be ever so inclined to half a mile walks and nature and books.”

Dean was staring in astonishment because finally the pieces were fitting together. The teasing, Sam never backing down for obvious reasons and now... “Cas?” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the wind and the logs crackling in the hearth. 

Sam seized the moment to appear taken aback by the question. “Well, _you_ said it. I didn’t. If that’s what you want, I’m perfectly fine –”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” by then, his astonishment was replaced with a sense of cold dread and absolute horror. “Have you had too much to drink or something?”

“There was no brandy or…alcohol served,” Castiel appeared suddenly in quite a refreshed spirit after devouring a cup of tea in the kitchen obviously. He startled both men and didn’t seem to mind at all from intruding. “Sam, did you sneak in a flask of spirits?” frowning, his forehead creased.

Immediately, Dean sat back and stared wide eyed at the older man, wondering how much of the conversation he had been privy to before joining them. But then judging from the usual pleasant expression plastered on his best friend’s handsome face, it appeared as if Castiel was spared from Sam’s ridiculous suggestion.

A romantic interest developing between the two of them seemed ludicrous and exactly the kind of delusion that would slip into his brother’s imaginative mind. But when more thought was placed on the matter, a kind of unsettling feeling developed inside his gut from the obvious attachment between himself and Castiel. 

If Sam was so convinced that they were the perfect match, then there must be substantial input to arrive at such a conclusion. With a vast amount of interactions over the years, stemming from the young age of five when he decided that reading was the best pleasure, Castiel always proved his worth. Whether it was in the simplicity of always asking after Dean’s health or the constant bickering between the two; Sam evidently developed a belief that Dean could be more inclined to the older man than just friends.

But Castiel was always of the same belief as he that happiness was derived from being alone and in the company of books. Therefore, the comforts of a woman never seemed important to him. The man lived alone and reeked of wealth and status that any woman found attractive. But he chose to remain preserved, and appeared utterly delightful in his decision. And Dean thought that Castiel deserved to be alone and without attachments because if there was a mistress or a girlfriend, then he would have less available time to spend with him.

That would be the biggest injustice of all.

“Bring him upstairs when you’re done admiring his face that looks as handsome as mine,” Sam referred to the baby before reaching the staircase and admiring Castiel choosing to sit on the chair beside Dean. “Jess is probably trying to put the other two in bed so that might take a while. But you two…bond and talk about things. No better way to do that than over a baby.” And just like that, he skipped up the steps and disappeared.

With Castiel shifting his position and a foot of distance between them, Dean suddenly felt rather prickly because of his brother’s observation. He was self-conscious of the _profound bond_ although spending years treasuring it with nothing but the warmest sentiments. Besides, wouldn’t it be quite ridiculous to even ascertain that there was anything more than friendship blooming between them? 

Castiel always appeared satisfied during their conversations which were never dull. The man adored generous amounts of topics to debate on passionately with John or Dean over dinner. And now, almost instantaneously, he sought out the most interesting one that captivated their time for almost half an hour afterwards.

“Goodness, a time warp?” he stared at Dean with the most ridiculous expression on his face, never quite aged for a man of forty-five. “I thought Stephen King wasn’t your forte.”

“There’s a whole documentary on it. The evidence also makes sense when you think of it. And there’s no way else to describe how an entire ship and crew could disappear and then resurface after ninety-five years. It’s either that or the Bermuda Triangle is monitored by aliens.”

“And the plot thickens.” 

Dean admired Castiel sitting back, obviously ridiculing his theory and he again felt warmed by a fever of trying to defend his beliefs. “Look, it’s not my fault you have some sort of a phobia towards aliens. They probably probed you and you don’t want to admit it.”

“Nonsense. Hardly the truth. But as I explained several times to you before, if they existed, there would be evidence of communications. They would be exposed more likely by an ignorant asshole who craves fame.”

“And you think that there isn’t enough evidence? Cas, there are documents that exist by the freaking government, orders given by them, telling people who witnessed U.F.Os to shut the hell up or be silenced. If you even took time to look at the links I sent you, you’d see that these stuff piled up and kept piling up. Do you even use your goddamn phone?” Dean scowled at his friend’s cool expression. 

Castiel always managed to appear quite serene even in the most unsettling situations and it was a developed skill that oftentimes ruffled Dean’s feathers because he would be fueled and ready to raise his voice but his friend merely provided the opposite reaction. Therefore, their arguments were never arguments but managed to climb for a few seconds and descend again almost immediately. 

“So what you’re saying is a spacecraft hovered over a ship, aliens climbed down and plucked up an entire crew of over fifty men and then sailed off into the solar system.”

“Check your damn phone.” Dean scowled with his arms folded.

“I’m not going to waste precious time looking at videos that are doctored by mind-controlling freaks.”

“Then read a damn book about it. There are plenty.”

“Aren’t you in a sour mood tonight. What brought this on? Hmm?” Castiel’s softened tone was too soothing like applying balm to a sore bruise.

Dean, as the storm whirled around inside of his chest, decided to rock the baby slowly without providing an answer because he couldn’t really. There wasn’t an explanation for the turmoil inside of his mind as well, spinning a million thoughts around and trying to fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle. Not when Castiel refused to see the reason behind the importance of technology like owning a smartphone and never opening up his WhatsApp messages. In fact, Dean wasn’t certain that Castiel even equipped himself with a phone at all.

He referred to Sparknotes as an avenue for persons who were too lazy to read books to peruse freely. His judgment on cable was a money making business that was rapidly replacing people’s interest in books. Even the news, he claimed, was now broadcasted, therefore erasing the importance of reading about current affairs in the papers. And the most outrageous claim of all, was that technology was created by the devil himself.

Dean adored his friend immensely, he really did, but there were times when Castiel’s stubbornness ruffled his feathers. And whilst they freely related through novels, there were many things that sharply contrasted each other. Like tea as opposed to coffee, the vegan lifestyle whilst Dean loved a good burger and fries. Castiel adored stuffed animals and Dean detested the likes of them. Bees and butterflies were quite fascinating to his best friend but bothersome to him in every possible way. And no matter how many times Dean tried to understand the excitement in Chess, he never found the glory that his father shared with the other man.

“So you’re not going to talk to me, is that it?” Castiel tried again, his gaze never leaving Dean’s face still turned to the fire. “Just because I do not believe in aliens and so what if I don’t, hmm? There are things that we both would rather brush under the rug as nonsense from time to time, but it doesn’t mean that it should tarnish our friendship.”

“Nothing could come between us,” Dean sighed, accepted defeat and threw the older man a small smile before considering the infant sleeping in his arms. “We’re like Thelma and Louise. I would say that you’re my ride or die but then that’s a term used for chicks and not dudes.”

“I...could be your...ride or die,” Castiel accepted the title with honor as his voice settled into a softer tone. “Anyway, um,” he swallowed down the moment which simply passed like many other ones, “you’re really good with babies,” he said good heartedly as the fire crackled before them. “As I can recall, the twins were no different. You thoroughly enjoyed holding one in each arm. In general, I think that children are quite fond of you.”

“I guess it just comes naturally. Before I forget, Ellen wants me to help out with the donations again this year,” Dean savored the warmth generated from his little namesake. “You know, getting the coats and winter gear to the kids.”

“That’s admirable of you. And…I heard that the orphanage is hosting a Christmas party this year. Last year was most tragic because of the winter storm. Poor darlings had to spend their holidays locked inside that awful place.”

Dean remembered spending two months alongside Ellen and Castiel planning the party, only to be disappointed when the entire town was covered in almost three feet of snow. Unlike any other year, the last one was a terrible winter that seeped into everyone’s bones and brought on joint pains, colds and close to six deaths.

“I really need to check on them more often,” Dean referred to the little smiling faces at Saint Anne’s Orphanage. “Sam bitched about me holing myself up inside the house too much. Might probably take a spin somewhere or walk, depending on the weather and how it goes.”

“Well, just ensure that you bundle up in your warmest coat. I don’t want you catching pneumonia like before. Gave me quite a scare.”

“Thought you’d lose me for good, eh?” the twinkle in Dean’s green eyes softened the brutal truth. “I’m not going down that easy, Cas. Prepare yourself for a lifetime of me harassing the hell out of you.”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said smiling into the fire. His blue eyes were like warm pools of water. “I really don’t mind that at all.” The silence stretched on between them and it was a comfortable two minutes filled with their pensive looks into the burning embers. Then Castiel sighed which always happened unexpectedly and without his control.

“What?” Dean caught on rather quickly, glancing at the other man and eager to strike up a conversation again. “You good?”

“I was just wondering if you would like to have any kids of your own someday. Or perhaps…one?” Castiel’s voice was less gravelly and tone very much deeply affected by an emotion that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean as he continued to gaze into the fireplace.

“Oh, yeah. But I kind of want to adopt.”

“Really?” Castiel finally locked eyes with him and Dean marveled over the pleased look, almost as if his friend was overly pleased by the answer.

“Why not? There are plenty of kids who want a good home.”

“I just thought that when you do…settle down with your…wife,” Castiel’s tone dipped a little lower on the last word and he avoided eye contact, “you would prefer to pass on your abundance of good looks and cleverness through your own offspring.”

“First of all, thank you,” Dean dipped his head and smiled at a man who refused to look at him but found the fire rather interesting for a prolonged period, “and second of all, have you seen how adorable those kids are at Saint Anne’s? I think that you can raise a kid the right way just as you guys raised me and Sam. I wasn’t born with my love for books.”

“But you inherited it from your mother.”

Dean nodded slowly. “True. But without you in my life, I wouldn’t have been so interested in reading. Believe me, what pushed me the most when I was younger was to please you.”

“Me?” Castiel finally looked at Dean, and when he did, the softness in his blue eyes was too much to absorb. 

“Don’t look so surprised, man. Come on, I wanted to read all the books you read. I wanted to, I dunno,” Dean shrugged, “become as smart as you, using all those big words and maybe I thought that if I did all the things you did, then I’d be as amazing as you are. And I was never disappointed by challenging myself like that. Even now, I’ve got to say, Cas, you’re my biggest inspiration.”

And just like that, Castiel’s disposition melted into a soft, smiling expression that contained admiration and a fondness that spared nothing.

“Dean, thank you. Although I never inspired you to matchmake people.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head because he was suddenly tugged back into the moments when they disagreed and he realized how his actions could be considered as childish when he thought that the complete opposite.. “Here we go. You know, this was going so well and then you just have to scold me like you usually do. Way to go, ruining the moment, Cas.”

But when his right hand was slowly taken, grasped delicately at first and then folded into the other man’s left palm, Dean stopped breathing. 

Maybe it was a bit too much to jump to conclusions that rang true to Sam’s earlier declaration, but this was new. Never before did they ever introduce such an…intimate gesture on either side. Hugs were oh so scarce and treasured but when they embraced each other in the past, nothing compared to the feel of Castiel’s fingers entwining slowly with his.

Dean was completely stunned in that moment that possessed nothing but a warm and fuzzy feeling which was unearthed from somewhere deep inside of him. Perhaps he was clinging to the kind of mystery a little too much. Guiltily craving the little sparks that traveled through his fingers, danced inside his veins and up his spine, and when the actuality of it all sunk in, Dean struggled to process the truth.

He found himself battling around through cobwebs, trying to sort out the intentions and the misunderstandings because Sam’s hovering remarks buzzed around the air. And although there was a lack of concrete affirmation towards the existence of an attraction of any kind between himself and Castiel, Dean reverted to the confidence on this being a simple companionship and nothing more.

They were like brothers. A guardian and a student. Two men. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Maybe you should stop matchmaking,” Castiel’s tone was level but lower and his gaze reflected the small flames in the fireplace. “I hate when you do that because…everyone else ends up happy and secured and then there’s the two of us.”

Dean swallowed down his anxiousness, the baby suddenly developing a heaviness that wasn’t there before. “What’s wrong with the two of us?” he asked, realizing that his voice had fallen a few notes.

“Nothing. Or maybe everything. Then again, one may never fully ascertain their own flaws. In a sense, we are both flawed but forever understanding of each other’s downfalls. And whilst I can assure you that aliens do not exist…”

Dean’s light chuckle strained his heart and immediately he wondered after the new feeling. “Cas, you are something else.”

“You too,” Castiel didn’t skip a beat as his voice cracked a little. “You really are the most amazing person in my life.” And squeezing the other man’s fingers between his, the two of them continued to gaze into the fire as a comfortable silence washed over the peaceful setting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Excerpt:**

_“So, you’re really going to match everyone except me.”_

_“I can’t find someone to be with you, Cas, I’d rather have you. I mean, **have you** as in all to myself.” When Dean realized how the string of words sounded quite suggestive, his cheeks felt warmer. “Crap, look, you know what I mean.”_

_Castiel remained speechless, of course, and gradually, the tension between them thickened because he never released his gaze on Dean’s countenance and yet those green eyes stayed away from latching onto him completely._

* * *

Truthfully, the most favorable part of Sundays was the togetherness and happiness experienced under the small roof of the Saint Peter’s Catholic Church.

For twenty years, Dean, his nanny and father occupied the same seating arrangement with a desirable view on his right of the White Mountains in the distance. There was a trodden path that wound its way from the wrought church gates towards the vast trees and during every season of the year, Dean admired the beautiful changes. Winter though was coming, a kind of stillness settled on the town of Littleton that almost felt like the trees were patiently waiting to be blanketed in snow.

It was also fortunate that being contained in the corner allowed him the capacity to inwardly judge the congregation, the small ‘out of chorus’ choir and Father Crowley. But since _Mister Novak_ and his eldest brother Balthazar placed themselves immediately behind the Winchesters and Ellen, there was only so much inspection laced with humor allowed by Dean. And even if he wished to chuckle with Ellen on the sarcastic sermons delivered by Crowley, Castiel’s piercing stare drilled holes in the back of his skull throughout the service.

“It is unacceptable to judge another person because of your prejudices,” Crowley continued on the altar, delivering the Homily as passionately as any other Sunday. “If I wore a pink suit next week, would you laugh at me? No, you wouldn’t. Unless your reputation is tarnished by constant acts of immorality, a whore is a whore is a whore.”

Dean gasped behind his hand dramatically and Ellen poked his rib with her elbow. Then supplying a guilty chuckle, she linked her arm through his left and tugged him closer, therefore providing enough warmth as always to dull the chill in the air.

“Do not judge wrongfully!” Crowley said passionately from the altar, sweating profusely in his robe, “those who haven’t sinned, cast the first stone. In order to remove the plank from your neighbor’s eye, remove the plank from yours. Therefore, if you are suffering from obesity, do not call another person a fat person.”

Dean snorted and so did Ellen. “With a belly like his, I’d stay away from the fat jokes,” he whispered into her right ear. “I heard that he’s the one who consumed half the birthday cake at Sue’s party last week.”

“So, that’s where it went. No wonder he’s about to pop that robe,” Ellen returned.

“A man of substantial wealth and a respectful attitude,” Dean mocked in a rather spot on British accent. “Also of a hefty appetite and extended midsection.”

“Dean, if you don’t stop the incessant chatter, I’ll pinch your ear,” Castiel’s warm breath kissed his neck from behind all of a sudden, “and wring it until it’s red.”

Immediately, Dean stiffened, back as straight as a poker and for the remainder of the Mass, not a word was uttered from him. The threat was delivered successfully, achieving nothing but fear from past experiences of such an action. And although he detested being on the receiving end of such a scolding at the age of twenty-five, there was nothing to do but to adhere to ceasing all clownish acts. Until further notice, as the Communion was offered and accepted, Dean stayed far away from his god father, offering shy and cautious looks.

Then the most incredible occurrence graced his wandering scrutiny for as those green eyes tried to remain focused on Crowley, the woman sitting beside him was receiving a grand amount of admiration. And when Dean highlighted the man who sought out his warm and witty nanny to be no other than Bobby Singer, something sparked inside of that mischievous matchmaking mind. And all of a sudden, Castiel’s threat was pushed onto the back burner and replaced by an endless amount of plans to initiate the _to be_ couple’s expected meeting.

It happened right after church, as the congregation dispersed and a light, cold rain began to fall. The problem therein began with the availability of two umbrellas; John of course snatched one to share with Donna to discuss recent break-ins since she was the Sheriff. Dean willingly took the other and presented the situation in clear words to Ellen.

“Uncle Bobby is more than willing to share, plus his umbrella is larger than ours,” Dean received a stern look from the woman who saw through his mockery. “I mean, all things considering.” He shrugged and shifted his eyes away from her judgmental gaze.

“I will deal with you later,” Ellen hissed through a smile as the older man offered his arm. She took it, nodded graciously at him and the two of them followed the path leading towards the trees and into the Winchester estate.

What a fine morning it was to reflect on his matchmaking schemes and to ponder on this solely under an umbrella? Dean’s best thoughts were concocted when he was in a sentimental mood. So, to venture out into the drizzle and enjoy quite a comfortable walk back home, he was really looking forward to it.

Until his tranquility was snatched away.

After taking exactly ten paces forward and glancing up at the darkened sky, small splashes of water sounded from behind. And at first, he was quite certain that someone decided to hurry towards their car parked not too far away. But when the stem of the umbrella was taken abruptly by a hand that appeared too eager to do so, Dean immediately locked eyes with blue mellow pools. And in that dreadful moment, he realized that good things could never occur too easily, like his happiness about taking a walk alone and peacefully.

“Don’t you have an umbrella?” he became slightly irritated from the intrusion, the warm scent of Old Spice greeting his nose like a warm ray of sunshine snuffing out the bitter cold.

Castiel was still breathless but smiling. “I left it home purposely.”

“I should let you walk in the rain then.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Pressing their shoulders together, a considerable amount of warmth was generated from the connection. “I’d catch a cold and then I’d be sneezy all day. You don’t want me to be sneezy, do you, Dean?”

“Then you would be a much worse nuisance than normal.”

He was grumpy and despised the intrusion even more now that the threat still hung in the air. He wasn’t deserving of what occurred in church, not when he was evidently trying to prove his maturity at the age of twenty and five effortlessly every single day that passed by.

“Are you actually mad at me?” Castiel sounded amused, barely tearing his gaze away from Dean’s countenance to examine the puddles on the path that appeared like small pools of enormous depth.

“You know what?” Dean suddenly expelled passionately, “I am. You had no right scolding me like I’m a kid. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m older and wiser and handsome now.”

“Pride has always been your biggest flaw.”

Dean sighed, lowered his gaze to their shoes and noticed that the older man was wearing a brown pair with what appeared like white fancy socks. Could he be more unusual than always clinging to the ideal persona of a sophisticated gentleman? Down to the seams on his clothes were always ironed to perfection, never a crease to be seen and a manicure and pedicure twice a month wasn’t normal, was it? Then again, Sam would disagree.

“You are older and handsome. Very handsome,” Castiel tipped his head, still holding onto the umbrella. “But you still possess that childish streak that is unbecoming of a young man. It’s rather amusing to observe in the appropriate setting. However, in church…”

“I was bored!”

“Badly done, Dean!” Castiel delivered his most famous line only used in extreme cases. “There _were_ people observing you with mild dissatisfaction on their faces. Now, if I might add, you come from a very dignified family of remarkable respect in the community. I would hate for that reputation to be tarnished by a slip of the tongue. Mind you,” he continued when Dean groaned, arms dangling at his sides, “I will never scold you if it is not well-deserved.”

“ _Badly done, Dean_ ”, the younger man mocked but after Castiel nudged him out into the drizzle, Dean’s scowl deepened because he was very frustrated. “I’m going to get you back one of these days. You wait and see.” He returned to sheltering under the umbrella and batted away droplets from the dark red long-sleeved shirt. “I’ll make you pay for harassing me all these years.”

“I can’t wait,” Castiel smiled from ear to ear and nudged him again, this time, there was no space between them but the confidence of maintain that endearing nearness. “I am anything _but_ terrified.”

For a while, they walked in silence, simply admiring the view of the mountains in the distance and the looming mansions through the thick trees. On most days, taking the simple trodden path through the forest towards the estate was an easy fete but traversing it late at nights could become unsafe. Recently, there were a few break-ins and muggings, nothing of substantial loss but nevertheless, the climb of crime could grow worst in the winter as families struggled to make ends meet.

“I think I need to take you shopping to get some new clothes,” Dean said when they moved through the trees and Ellen’s laughter reached them from where she and Bobby were walking ahead. “Dammit, Cas…look at…” he studied his friend’s crisp suit and shook his head.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Castiel’s gravelly tone would forever sound rather cute to Dean when the older man grew irritated or unsettled from something.

“Dude, have you noticed how your biceps stretch the damn sleeves? They’re bulging. And by the way, your pants are getting too tight as well as your jeans.”

“Well, thank you for noticing such details about me,” Castiel sounded impressed but avoided eye contact. The drizzle stopped but the wind through the leaves still sent droplets flying.

“Have you been working out?” Dean collected the umbrella and their arms brushed as always, an inch of distance between them was normal. “Lifting all those books in your library like weights?”

“You know, I cannot understand why you find it hard to believe that I do engage in physical exercise in my gym. I do have one of those, Dean. And I’ve been inviting you for years to use it but you’d rather run up and down the stairs and call that exercise.”

“I don’t have the time.”

“Oh, right,” Castiel’s eyes blinked at the darkened sky above, “You wake up at nine a.m. and eat breakfast. Then you’re in virtual classes for as much as four hours every day on the internet, sparing lunch in the middle. And after working on research, you’re left with let’s say 4 p.m. until midnight to do heaven knows what apart from reading.”

“It’s creepy that you know my routine so well. And for your information, I do…things. Besides reading.” Dean shrugged. “You know…I help dad out.”

“You mean handing him the tools whilst he’s under the car.”

“Is it your life mission to harass me or something?”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But the truth is as plain as day.”

“And what’s that, Cas?” Dean considered his best friend with a frown. “Tell me since you know me so damn well. More than I know myself. You know what? Humor me, man. Lay it all on me like you always do.”

For a few seconds, nothing was said between them until they reached the end of the path that branched off in two directions; one leading towards the Novak’s estate and the other already trodden by Ellen and Bobby. John was unlocking the front door, his beat-up pickup truck parked in the wide yard and a few pigeons nested in the windowsill upstairs on the second floor.

“When will you come to my house, Dean?” Castiel suddenly asked in such a haste that for a moment, the view before Dean was blurred by the distraction.

The two of them stopped and faced each other whilst the younger considered his boots and the other scrutinized bashful green eyes. Whenever the question was posed, something inside of Dean felt very similar to an earthquake’s tremor and the worst part of it all was being completely aware of the reason. Maybe the feeling wasn’t unsettling but a lot of anxiousness stemming from a very much unforgettable memory in his childhood seemed so ridiculous after all these years.

He remembered finding the front door locked and adventurous as he was at nine years old, Dean flawlessly climbed the dark orange walls, using the concrete stones jutting out as footrests. And when he finally reached the balcony above, well almost because there was a ledge between himself and the space leading into Castiel’s bedroom, Dean peered through a window and he would never forget it.

Balthazar was drinking his morning coffee without a stitch of clothing on, offering a full-frontal view to the world outside. And thank God he perused the newspapers with a frown because if he did notice Dean crouched down on the ledge outside his window, then the teasing wouldn’t ever be left behind. Added to that, there was another man draped across the fine caramel colored sofa, a towel concealing below his waist but Dean could still hear the words that fell from his lips in a purr even after all these years.

_Fuck me and make me scream like a train whistle, baby._

But he couldn’t relate this to Castiel; witnessing his older brother completely naked and well-endowed and obviously freshly awakened from the throes of passion.

“That’s not a house,” Dean gestured at the Novak’s residence, the tone of his voice rising a little from nervousness. “It’s a freaking mansion.”

“Answer the question. I’ve asked you over for dinner for years now. I’ve asked you to come into my library and borrow whatever book you like instead of requesting that I fetch them to you. Also,” Castiel rested a hand on Dean’s left shoulder and squeezed, “you are invited to stay over whenever you like but you’ve never taken me up on those invitations. Not once. Why?”

Dean shrugged because he couldn’t elaborate, could he? He couldn’t come right out and mention that when he gazed at the tall windows, the expectation of Balthazar waltzing across one of them completely naked was daunting. So the two of them remained under the umbrella and the space between radiated with a dull but comfortable heat.

“I’m a creature of habitat? I don’t like going into other people’s houses and staying too long. Would you stay over if I asked you to? You’ve never done that.”

“Incorrect,” Castiel returned, never removing his hand from the other man’s shoulder as his fingertips pressed softly into. “I’ve stayed with you when you were younger. Maybe it has been too long ago to remember but when you were sick with pneumonia, I was there. And don’t you remember me falling asleep inside your pillow forts? Those are good memories, Dean. But I’m still baffled why you don’t come over to see me. I do enjoy the walks,” Castiel nodded, “indeed I do. But my house is not haunted nor is it unappealing.”

“You sure about that?” Dean’s voice was hoarser and he detested the change in quality. “What about those dolls, huh? I remember when I looked in the window years ago and saw the dolls in that room upstairs.” _And also your brother._

“Oh, right.” Castiel touched his forehead and chuckled from the memory. “When you climbed up onto the balcony and skinned your knees. That’s my mother’s room but I’ve long now renovated it into a gallery.”

After all these years, Balthazar’s lewdness was like stale residue inside his mind. “Gallery for what?”

“I paint, Dean,” Castiel said simply, their eyes never leaving each other. He finally removed his hand from grasping Dean’s shoulder and sighed. “Apparently there is so much you don’t know about me. I exercise, paint, play the violin and piano…”

“Cas, no way.” Green eyes widened from sincere intrigue, these things he was never privy to or never found it necessary to inquire. Just when he believed that he was equipped with everything to know about his best friend... “You’re goddamn accomplished in all areas, aren’t you?”

“Well,” Castiel’s eyes lowered as his cheeks flushed, “I’ve tried to compensate for whatever else I lack.”

“What the hell could you be lacking when you have so much already?”

“Love?” Blue orbs lifted to meet green ones and there was a distinct look of disappointment on the older man’s face. Castiel shrugged. “Um, companionship, someone to paint and play my instruments for? A partner?”

Dean swallowed after drowning in the other man’s gaze because the topic was never broached before until now. Several mentions were made over the years as to why Castiel remained single after a very awful relationship. But he could never touch the topic without feeling somewhat mildly jealous of imagining a woman stealing away all the attention he had. “You mean a girlfriend…”

“Mmm. I don’t want one of those,” Castiel said shaking his head without a smile. Then just as Dean evidently absorbed the new information received, the umbrella was shaken out, pulled in to close with a click and handed over. “See you at dinner, Dean.” And without waiting on a response, he diverted and went down the path leading towards his own front gate.

For a long time after Castiel left, Dean stood in solace, right in the middle of the fork in the trail. It was so downright enlightening to stand where one’s direction could be entirely swayed based on the exactness of intent. Were he to turn left, then Castiel’s footsteps would be followed; and Dean couldn’t understand why his best friend’s last statement rested on his mind so heavily.

Did Castiel mean that he didn’t fancy women in general or just the idea of the playful but youthful term ‘girlfriend’?

Well into his forties, the word perhaps sounded too immature for a man of his stature and distinguished talents, which is why the term ‘partner’ was used. Initially, when Dean thought of the word, it rather much didn’t suit Castiel. So, maybe that was the intention; to inform him that maturity also affected terms used. And after shrugging away the worry, he collected his wits and went own the path towards the house where the front door remained open and Bobby was bidding Ellen farewell.

* * *

After some time was considerably spent on wandering through two months in his mundane routine, Dean discovered that his worrying state of mind was replaced by a budding romance. Not a romance involving him, of course, but between a pair that he had the fortune of matching from the beginning.

Ellen’s disappearances from the house at nights were excused by accompanying a _friend_ to the cinema or a drink at a bar. Then after returning, Dean sitting in his window seat immersed in reading and observing his nanny coming through the gates, she was never alone. Bobby trailed behind quite gentlemanlike to accompany a lady of utmost good nature and beauty. And very soon, it was John who began the teasing on the pair at dinner, constantly inquiring when Ellen would bring her _friend_ over to join them for dinner.

On the other hand, Castiel found it rather amusing to whisper the most scandalous stories into Dean’s ear whilst they stood by the window in each other’s confidence. And never did he fall short of unearthing a bout of laughter from the younger man who constantly sought out the humorous quality of his older best friend. This time though, the window seat was sought out again as always, and in each other’s company they remained.

“You said they went to the movies Tuesday gone?” Castiel’s low, gravelly tone surrounded Dean’s personal space comfortably like a blanket because the weather outside was forever changing from rain to threatening snow.

“That’s what I said.”

“I only wish to confirm because there were two movies showing on that night; Fifty Shades of Grey and Pitch Perfect 2. And I’m pretty certain that Bobby wouldn’t be interested in the latter. Unless…”

Dean snorted, immediately impressed by his best friend’s observation. “You’ve got to be kidding me right now. Fifty Shades of Grey?” the last bit he whispered after turning to stare at Castiel, their faces inches apart. “I’ve heard of it but…no way in hell Ellen looked at that. Huh.”

“Are you doubting me?” Raised eyebrows only suggested one thing; a dire need to prove a point and of course, fueled by mischief.

Dean stared back in surprise because what was to come was far too expected from past experiences. “Cas, don’t. Don’t you dare.”

“My dearest Ellen,” Castiel provided after his cool gaze remained on the other man, raising his voice a little to be heard, “have you seen Pitch Perfect 2 as yet?” Dean nudged him hard though, obviously prepared for the directness but never expecting it to be delivered so easily. “I’ve heard that it’s quite a lovely movie. Funny indeed.”

The look on Ellen’s face was mild confusion and then of course, a sense of being completely clueless. “Can’t say I did. Not a comedy kind of gal.”

“More like dark and sexy times,” Castiel leaned closer and whispered, their arms pressed together and shoulders shaking from laughter. “And she looks so innocent, doesn’t she? Quite the little minx, who is interested so fondly as it seems, in anything but the traditional form of love-making.”

Dean concealed a low chuckle well enough behind his hand, and although Ellen’s stare remained on the pair by the window whispering in confidence, John kept the conversation on oil prices flowing like a waterfall. But she shouldn’t have been surprised by their confidence in whispers. Constantly over the years the two of them conducted such scrutiny from the window seat and never would their chats dull over the span of more than two hours.

“What’s it about anyway? Just sex?” Dean asked after a while, feeling slightly chilled from the coldness seeping into the room and realizing that as long as he remained in close proximity to his friend, the heat radiating from the other man was soothing enough to comfort him.

“Believe me, it is _not_ up your alleyway,” Castiel shuddered, arms folded and he narrowed his eyes at Ellen sitting alongside John on the couch before the fire. “I’ve attempted the books but my goodness because Balthazar purchased them for guilty pleasure. But BDSM is not my cup of tea.”

“Bondage, discipline, submission, machoism? Some people crave that kind of fun, I guess with the whips, fluffy handcuffs and pain. Me? I’m more of the old-fashioned type.”

“Meaning?” Castiel tilted his head and those blue eyes remained on Dean.

The scrutiny was never intimidating because he became so accustomed to being on the receiving end of someone trying to dissect his mind. Dean merely shrugged though since he was always an open book in situations that did not center too much on his feelings. “You meet a girl, you take her out on a few dates if it lasts that long, you know, talk and stuff. Then if the kiss happens, it happens. Well, I guess, the kiss mostly happens…”

“So, are you the type that makes the first move then?”

“In terms of what?” Dean considered Castiel with a frown and was a little surprised by the honesty in the question. They never pried before into each other’s romantic lives and knowing the older man fully well by then, Dean was of the impression that his friend was a rather private person. “Asking her out or the kiss?”

“Both.”

“Well, I…” Dean tugged on the right sleeve of his denim jacket and sighed, eyes resting on his father but never quite observing the conversation, “I haven’t been really that much involved since Lisa and Jo but I tried to date after them. And I was the one who asked Lisa. I was like _hey, do you want to grab a drink some time?_ And things pretty much kicked off from there.”

Castiel swallowed, never blinking and nodded as if the air contained a heaviness that would never settle. “And the kiss?”

“What?” Dean smiled and chuckled afterwards. “You taking notes to make your move or something?”

Rolling his eyes, the older man sighed. “Maybe I am. So what? Hmm? You’ve learned a lot from me. Shouldn’t I be fortunate to learn from you?”

Well…there was _that_. “Alright, fair enough. The kiss…I’ve got to say that out of the two girls I’ve dated, only one made the move to kiss me first. Lisa waited and I just took the bait. But Jo was really like a crash and burn. What about you?”

“Me?” Castiel’s voice sounded so small, he immediately cleared his throat and sipped some more of the special brandy, compliments of John’s stocked cabinet by the hearth. “I’ve only kissed one woman in my entire life.”

“And you just expect me of all people to believe that.” Dean stared back. “Bull. Might be twenty years your junior. But I’m not that stupid. I know when you’re lying. And don’t give me that crap about you don’t kiss and tell. I could give other people the free pass but not you.”

Castiel mockingly shook his head after locking their eyes and then he sighed. “Perhaps there was…another. Maybe two.”

“I knew it!” Dean fired back with as much enthusiasm. His friend was a looker, that much could be estimated by anyone who possessed a reasonable pair of eyes. And he could distinctly remember going on walks with Castiel in town and ladies boldly goggling at the older man without him seeming even remotely affected by the attention.

“It was in high school which feels like a very long time ago. And maybe they did me a favor out of pity because I was _not_ entirely a looker. Huge glasses, absurd wool sweaters and tailored pants whilst everyone else wore jeans. Oh, don’t look so fascinated, Dean.”

Yet he wasn’t entirely reacting to the descriptions, but the small patches of red that appeared on the older man’s cheeks. “Did your hair have a personality of its own back then? You know, the wild, untamed look?”

“Absolutely yes.”

“Then you had to be a looker. Bed sex hair actually looks good on you alone.”

“Bed… _what_ hair?” Castiel almost choked on his brandy and delivered quite an impressed look. “Did you actually use _that_ word? I’ve never heard it escape your lips before.”

Dean laughed and folded his arms. The space they fitted themselves into between the window frame was only so wide to accommodate an inch of distance between them. And like prior occasions, the coziness swelled his chest with the kind of warmth that was very intoxicating.

“We just never talk about it, I guess. It’s not a topic that comes up just like that. Mostly when guys talk about sex, they’re ready to boast or something.”

“Or when two people are interested in each other, rather much intimately inclined,” Castiel provided, leaning a little into Dean’s touch, “they would perhaps entertain the topic of…sex. Intimacy...”

“You mean Ellen and uncle Bobby?” Dean assessed his nanny’s face and realize that she did seem to appear quite flushed recently.

Castiel sighed, evidently bruised by the mention of the pair and his disapproval seemed strange at first until Dean decided that the prolonged teasing was becoming a nuisance. Very soon, he expected Castiel to remark that prying into the couple’s affairs was disrespectful and they should refrain from doing so. After all, he did mention prior that maturity entailed holding one’s tongue.

“My brother is seeing someone.”

“Again?” Dean felt relieved after their conversation picked up again. Whilst John stoked the fire and settled onto the chair once more beside Ellen, the dull tones of their voices drifted across the room. “Didn’t he end his last relationship about a month ago?”

“I’m afraid so,” Castiel shook his head slowly and studied the glass of brandy as if he was only just then realizing that his choice of beverage resembled a vampire’s refreshment. “I’m quite thrilled that he seems happy but at the same time, there is an abundance of worry about his reckless behavior. And he’s always going on and on about my dull lifestyle as a bachelor and that I should start seeing someone. _Deprived of sex_ he referred to my obsessive reading habits the other day. As if he is ever a good judge of character.”

“Deprived of sex, huh?” Dean latched onto the mention of that and smiled in good humor. Teasing Castiel was enlightening every single evening after dinner. “Guess both of us are sailing on the same boat then.”

“So…you’ve never really been with anyone after Lisa then? I mean,” the older man cleared his throat as he leaned back and studied his glass, “if you wish to divulge that kind of information…that is…and it would be very understandable if you wished _not_ to speak about your…about those things with me.”

Dean was remarkably surprised by the awkwardness seeping into Castiel’s demeanor and he chuckled. “Dude, relax. It’s not like we’re strangers. You know that I’d tell you anything you want to know about me, man. All you got to do is ask and a couple of times…after her. Lisa, that is…” he bowed his head and shrugged from the awful memory. “To be honest, I was kind of on the rebound and really trying to prove a point that I could still get in the game. But apart from that I guess nothing’s happened for what seems like ages now.”

“Oh,” when Castiel swallowed and remained silent afterwards, all the younger man could do was study his best friend’s face and wonder what was occurring behind those lowered blue eyes. “I’ve never…well…dabbled in…what you may call _flings_ of a sexual nature for a long time.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Cas…” and then to lighten the mood, Dean chuckled. “Hey, you more of a shy on the streets, freak in the sheets kind of guy or the opposite?”

“Would you like to find out?” Castiel smiled and suddenly rose up from the window seat, never breaking eye contact with the most dazzling smile upon his face. “At least buy me a drink first, you green eyed beauty.”

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, Dean scoffed, and remained where he was. After all, he could trail after the other man to tease him a little more but it was way past the hour of eight and Castiel reached for his trench coat by the door.

He instead followed silently with the main intention of seeing his friend out the door and halfway along the path at least. It was the most he could do and always managed every night before they parted ways. And that night was no different, the two of them silently stepping off the porch and under the blanket of stars that twinkled despite the gusty winds and overcast weather coming in from the east.

The moonlight cast an eerie glow around the trees, the path between them darkened and frightful looking. On most evenings, Castiel’s own was well illuminated by the moon and didn’t lead through the trees. So, with the Novak’s mansion standing in the distance like a celebrity castle nestled in the middle of nowhere, Castiel should have been eager to return to the comfort of his home. But he stalled midway across the Winchester’s yard, hands behind his back and somewhat troubled by something that furrowed his brows.

“I was merely joking,” he said, forehead creased in concern after facing Dean and locking eyes. “Earlier, I mean.”

“And here I was about to ask you out for a drink. Kidding,” Dean added chuckling and shaking his head because he was relieved that the situation wasn’t far worse than anticipated. “Come on, I know it was a joke. No hard feelings, man. Besides, you’re like a brother to me, right?

“Companions I’d prefer.”

Dean honestly believed that his friend was still trailing after good humor so he laughed. “Man, imagine what they’d say about us if we sat at a table, two single dudes, having a drink. All sorts of gay things. Would reach Sam till in New York and then I wouldn’t hear the last of him teasing me. Can’t tarnish our exceptional reputations, Cas. No homo.”

For a while, Castiel gazed at Dean without speaking, perhaps for a full minute the two of them maintained that bond. Green eyes lost all humor and searched blue ones for the intent behind the scrutiny. Then when Dean discovered that he was merely being observed instead of assessed for flaws, he blinked back slowly. Castiel followed in return, eyelashes fluttering and eventually, the air between them became too electric with a building feeling of uncertainty in Dean’s mind.

He couldn’t understand why he was on the receiving end of Castiel’s deliberate attempt to unhinge him, for whatever reason, Dean remained clueless. Deep down inside, perhaps he was trying to debate on what was wrongfully said and then after deciding that his _no homo_ reference could be labelled as disrespectful, he felt ashamed.

Castiel’s brother was gay, therefore he clearly would not entertain any mockery in relation to his family. And Dean obviously had overstepped by bringing up the phrase, he immediately regretted the misuse.

“I’m sorry, shit,” he sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. The no homo part. It was totally out of line and I don’t have…I’m not judgmental towards…” Dean swallowed, and his chest heaved because Castiel still refused to offer anything but a gaze. “You know…” he shrugged, “gay people in any way. I like Elton John…a lot,” he smiled nervously. “Those glasses….and it’s not like I’ve never had a friend who swings anyway other than home. Benny was…open and it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t—"

“Good night, Dean,” Castiel said softly as a different emotion crossed over his countenance, the kind that Dean never witnessed before. Was it…displeasure? But why? “I love you,” the older man added, like the three words oftentimes drifted between them over the years as naturally as anything else.

“Same. To the moon and back,” Dean said too softly, standing in a pool of shame and wishing that he could melt into the grass and forever disappear. “Good night, Cas.”

“Bye,” then, just like that, he abruptly turned and headed towards the gate, his step slow and suggestive of becoming rather tired from the late evening.

If he could just take back his statements, rewind time and pluck those ignorant lines out of the air, then maybe such a foolish display would never have happened.

How could he be so stupid?

Castiel didn’t deserve to be ridiculed in such a manner. Dean’s slip of his tongue was becoming more nonsensical than he cared to admit. Ever so often, he was beginning to exert a large amount of brainpower trying to justify his interactions with the other man. It was like wading through a maze and deciding which path to take, and Dean honestly believed that because of his questionable thoughts about Castiel’s behavior, there was something underlying the obvious.

Maybe the two of them were growing too comfortable and close to each other and what Dean required was another companion to spread out his attention. After all, fueling every single emotion he possessed into their meetings caused him to rely on every single line and debate on the simplest things said when on prior occasions, nothing such as controversial as current ever occurred. In the past, they engaged each other, dwelled on good humor and moved on as best friends did.

* * *

When Ellen and Bobby announced their engagement within less than two months of courting each other, marriage soon followed.

It was a small wedding held at the same church they initiated their communications with Dean’s guiding hand, then the reception ended up on the Winchester’s estate. And through it all, Ellen reprimanded Dean for getting involved but offered thanks anyway in wake of her happiness. After all, she was a woman who neared the age of forty-five just like Castiel but was always in dire need of a life-long companionship.

Bobby filled the role nicely, equal in charm and warmth as Ellen in the marriage but combined, they offered an abundance of wit, sarcasm and humor. All of these were good qualities considering that she was never a force to be reckoned with. Dean constantly remembered growing up under her care and although John spared the use of physically scolding, she always delivered just enough to leave a lasting impression.

However, whilst everyone was settled on a celebrative mood, John sunk into dull mood because for twenty years, Ellen became his most trusted companion as she evolved into the role of a sister. Sitting by the fire, gaily exchanging news on the passing times or experiences from the past, he adored those moments. He looked forward to her advice and now to witness her being whisked away, less than a mile away to reside with Bobby, it was heartbreaking for him. Although he still had his companion Castiel, the two of them stretching back in familiarity longer than Ellen, John was still unhappy.

But he wasn’t the only one.

After stuffing his face with red velvet cake, chasing his namesake around the yard and pushing his giggling twin nieces on the swing set, Dean’s happiness waned. His father remained by the cake table and would not be moved because of obvious reasons.

“Children mustn’t eat so much cake. Away from here, you go!” he shooed the twins and their friends then turned to Bobby who was rather amused. “All that sugar will race them around fast enough to knock down chairs and tables. When Sam and Dean were younger, they were never allowed so much sugar. Sam! You better put down that cupcake!”

The wedding was quite spectacular indeed, as all family gatherings were. John had a little too much to drink which left him tipsy and spreading jokes all around the crowd that now dispersed all in good spirits. But the tremendous weight of losing another member of the family who resided inside the house was more of a tragedy than a happiness altogether for Dean. And no matter how hard he tried to suffocate the guilty trip of feeling entirely dissatisfied, nothing could cheer him up.

It was one thing to pair up people and admire their growing attachment, but it was another to realize that the house he resided in was now reduced to himself and his father alone. And although he lamented to Sam that a wealth of comfort existed in staying exactly where he was, Dean’s growing fear that he would be left behind whilst everyone moved on became depressing. And after the wedding, and Ellen and Bobby drove away in the rusty pickup, laughing happily, he watched his father return to the house and stayed there for a long time despising the dust settling on the road.

Balthazar sighed and nudged his brother’s arm and the two of them remained a good distance away but admiring the same subject. “Do you ever get jealous that he fixes everyone up except notice that you’re pining over him?”

Castiel shook his head and couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean’s sulking figure by the wrought iron gates. “He’s my god son and twenty years my junior. I do not _pine_ over him. And he certainly sees me as an older brother.”

“You’re really going to lie to me? _Me_? Your very gay big brother who possesses quite a sharp gaydar if I might add?” Balthazar laughed and puffed out his chest that expanded a crisp white shirt. “Come on, Cassie, you two are the perfect match. Age is but just a number. And I’ve never met anyone on this earth who shares your interests the way he does.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Everyone knows, Cassie. Also, your bickering is quite entertaining and what better fun than to have a young man who heightens your sex drive, hmm?”

“Can you stop it?” Castiel’s cheeks grew crimson and he flicked his eyes from the most admirable subject who was dusting something off the right sleeve of his tuxedo.

“What? You can’t exactly confess that you’re not aching for a good roll around in bed with someone as dashing as Dean. Look at him.” Balthazar gestured at the younger man who was now staring at them, arms folded. “He’s quite a looker and well-endowed from the looks of it. Oh, don’t worry. He’s hardly my type. Think of it,” he said smiling, after receiving a scowl coupled with flushed cheeks, “as the two of you doing each other a favor. You’re both inexperienced –”

“Hardly.”

“You can’t refer to _her_ as significant.” Balthazar scoffed and all of a sudden, his tone turned bitter. “That godawful ex-wife of yours. She loved her drugs more than you and look where it all ended up. You have a child who shuns you. I bet the sex wasn’t even all that great but it so happened that you had the misfortune of reproducing with that sorry excuse of a woman. Whatever did you find attractive about her? She was rather frail and had these… _racoon_ looking eyes.”

“Contrary to popular beliefs, Amelia was a very lovely young lady –”

“Who was also a PCP and heroin addict,” Balthazar returned. The twins flew past them, chasing each other and laughing. “And she experienced with meth. Had a whole bloody chemistry set to play with whilst you gave her everything she needed and then what happens? She never told you she was pregnant, and worst of all, she –”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Castiel’s tone was sharper and he turned away to look at Sam helping himself to a piece of cake alongside John and Jessica. When their eyes met, the younger Winchester winked and jerked his chin at Dean who was still staring down the road even as the dust settled. “Chances are, these things may never find a compromise but at least I can still have my own fond memories of her.”

“As few as they might be.” Balthazar would not accept defeat as he folded his arms and turned to his younger brother.

“Are you two talking about me?” Dean’s voice climbed a few octaves from where he stood, glaring. “So not cool.”

The black tailored suit wrinkled in places where the children harassed their uncle. But Castiel thought him to be quite alright in appearance, regardless.

“You know, if you do end up with him, you wouldn’t have to worry about moving closer to each other. I call that the most amazing advantage. And by the way, if he tries to convince you that he’s not gay, don’t believe a word of it. This intuition that one calls a _gaydar_ ,” Balthazar smiled when Castiel stared at him in disbelief, “malfunctions when he’s nearby. Dean is very much _not_ straight. But the sad part is, he doesn’t know it as yet because of his lack of knowledge on the area and added to that, his main subject of attraction happens to be his best friend since birth. You two have grown to be nothing but buddies. Tragic when you think of it. But it sets the stage for an easy transition. Really, Cassie, you are entangled in such a hopeful case but I don’t pity you.”

“What does that even mean?” Castiel’s migraine worsened from the penetrating conversation that drilled into his skull.

“It means that you can succeed if you try. But you’ll have to try very hard to convince him that what he feels for you is far more than what friends feel for each other. At this point, Dean’s immaturity stems from how he was brought up; nurtured and smothered by Ellen’s love as well as his father stifling his exposure to the world out there. What they should have done was to let him go to a bloody college and sit in a classroom instead of studying at home. How on earth is he supposed to have any human contact?”

“I feel like you are wrongfully judging him.”

“Naturally you would be on the defensive side. You are absolutely smitten by a posh, childish and rather handsome nerd who prefers to stay in the house all day. He’s full of pride, too playful and stubborn. Someone needs to break him out his shell and I can only imagine that when he starts realizing his feelings for you, then the change will happen. You wait and see. Filthy rich kid, he is. Look at him, standing there hating me for stealing your attention away from him.”

Dean glared at the two men, shook his head and sighed then returning his gaze to the road, there he stood alone like a petulant child.

“Even if I do admit that I…am somewhat attracted to him,” Castiel confessed without allowing his eyes to meet his brother’s widened ones. “I am still of the impression that it may never be more than a friendship.”

“Oh, it will be. You just have to give it some time to happen. Might I add too that mother would be most delighted to discover that her most perfect son is actually bisexual?”

“She’s turned in her grave enough already because of the rest of you, so I don’t believe my sexuality will trouble her too much. _If_ my sexuality even deviates from the norm, that is.”

“Oh, it’s deviating,” Balthazar’s wide grin was somewhat mocking but rather much understood by his brother to mean as much comfort as he may provide. “No one is normal in the Novak family, Cassie. I’m a fucking gay spandex obsessed unicorn, Gabe swims around in orgies all over Europe, Michael marries women who have nice legs to spread, and Anna…well, she’s decided to marry God coupled with all her sexual fantasies developed in Catholic school.”

Castiel sighed because indeed his family was like being dealt a bad hand of cards. “It may be inherited.”

“Sucking cock is not a crime, and neither is it a displeasure,” Balthazar snorted when his brother’s eyes widened like saucers. “And by far, since Dean is packing, you’ve got a generous amount to work with, which should be pleasurable.”

“Just go home, you ass.”

After his brother left, feeling quite contented with his remarks, Castiel remained with a considerable distance between himself and the younger man who considered him with as much openness as possible.

If it was true that such a thing as a _profound bond_ existed then the effect of it continued to be captured in the moments when they locked eyes. Through such a connection, Dean was always able to decipher Castiel’s intentions or at least he thought it was possible. At least he ascertained that if there was one person who would never lie to him, then that would be the man he had grown to adore over the many years of companionship. But oftentimes, a mystery resided behind those blue eyes that didn’t quite bode well with Dean because he kept trying to reach for the answers, to unravel the truth, but Castiel never allowed him to penetrate those walls.

Now, when they gazed at each other, Dean wondered what secrets his best friend held close at heart, or maybe locked away deep down inside. Secrets that were never touched by anyone else but buried beneath the rubble because he at least understood that Castiel’s past was tainted by tragedies. Learning these stories from John possibly should have been the most painful part of Dean’s relationship with Castiel, because he would have favored his friend confiding in him. But after becoming familiar with the misfortune of an abusive mother, bullied severely in school, a marriage that was such a sore topic to touch; Dean feared delving into those areas of Castiel’s life.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

If he only could, then maybe they would end up in an argument or worst, an emotional conversation. “I just feel, I don’t know, I guess sad about being more alone now than before.”

Castiel frowned, dressed in a very attractive suit of the darkest blue and incredibly washed over in the scent of everything fruity as usual. The man reeked of apples and warm pineapples and as always, what came to mind was the specific choice of cologne Aventus by Creed. “You are anything but alone; present company included.”

“I mean Ellen. She’s gone and now it’s just me and dad inside that goddamn big house,” Dean gestured at the colonial style abode that contained wide windows and three levels. “I really don’t mind the space, but the echoes in empty rooms. We have so many rooms in there that I don’t even go into on a daily basis. And the freaking living room is so large that we could fit thirty people in there with space left over.”

“Serves you right. It’s your own doing, matching and packing away everyone close to you. Sam now Ellen,” Castiel wrinkled his nose. “What on earth did you expect, Dean? Hmm? The house is rather empty most of the year. But please don’t place all the blame on yourself. Sam chose to migrate to New York. That wasn’t your decision and if I must add my two cents…”

“You mean like a buck,” Dean sighed because just when the older man lectured him about something, he also always added that it was never his fault. As if the ill act was somewhat expected because making mistakes was wired into his DNA.

Castiel nudged his shoulder playfully though and chuckled. “Make fun of my rambling but you thoroughly enjoy it. As I was saying, as one gets older, great changes happen for the better or the worst. Ellen and Sam’s happiness for instance, reside in their marriages as well as coming back here to spend time with you and John. Equally though, the time will come when you will yourself overwhelmed with love and therefore in consideration of a bond with someone you will come to love.”

The possibility of falling in love sounded so ludicrous to Dean. “Give me another twenty years. Maybe by then I’ll be forced to settle down instead of going through the motions of catching feelings for someone.”

“Don’t say that, Dean,” Castiel’s tone was softer like the warm yellow of the sun’s rays resting on his face. “You honestly don’t think that you deserve to be loved and to be in love? There are people in your life who love you immensely apart from your family. And some day, perhaps, your feelings might be in line with theirs. I, on the other hand, will not leave you as everyone else has done. Just as long as you don’t match me with a disaster if the need arises.”

“Not going to. No one would ever be perfect enough for you.”

“Oh really?” The wind whipped their clothes and faces as thunder rolled above. Castiel’s eyebrows arched and he tilted his head to match quite an inquisitive look. “You are so certain that?”

“Yup.”

“So, you’re really going to match everyone except me.”

“I can’t find someone to be with you, Cas,” Dean admitted in a soft tone whilst avoiding eye contact like the plague. He instead stared at the mountains and dark clouds that rolled in from the east. “Despite all that the world offers, and all the women lining up to get your attention, I’d rather have you. I mean, _have you_ as in all to myself.” When Dean realized how the string of words sounded quite suggestive, his cheeks felt warmer. “Crap, look, you know what I mean.”

Castiel remained speechless, of course, and gradually, the tension between them thickened because he never released his gaze on Dean’s countenance and yet those green eyes stayed away from latching onto him completely.

“I guess jealousy works both ways, huh?” Dean was more than capable of twisting and turning himself into knots without exactly understanding what his statements truly meant.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice hoarsened as the scent of his cologne heightened. “What does that mean?”

“I _mean_ , it’s freaking funny how no one seems to come to mind. And the worst part is, no one suits you because they never would. Well, at least to me, that is.”

“Rather selfish of you, don’t you think?” Castiel said firmly. “Just as I want you to be happy, you should want the same thing for me. Both of us need to be contented.”

“You were the one who said not so long ago that you don’t want a girlfriend, remember?”

“But if there _is_ someone out there for me that would perhaps be my perfect match, a woman who appreciates my talents and my existence. A woman who is willing to love me, regardless of my age, would you be contented? Would you rather I didn’t have that kind of happiness? Dean, would you really and truly become jealous?”

“Yup.”

The two of them stared at each other. Dean’s hands shoved inside his pants’ pockets, and Castiel’s creased forehead and knitted brows. Then the scrutiny began, passionately conducted on the older man’s side because of the uncertainty in the reply.

“Jealous why, Dean? My affections directed to you would remain the same, wouldn’t it?”

“I just can’t think about it, man.”

Castiel frowned. “What does that even mean? You just can’t _think_ about it.”

Dean smiled, felt a light flutter inside his chest and sighed. “What do you want me to say, Cas? If I am almost reduced to tears because I just watched Ellen pack up and leave, can you imagine what losing you would do to me? I’ve known you all my damn life. Since forever. And sure, I’d be happy if you find someone to be with, but it would also be the most painful day of my life.”

“Why?” Castiel’s voice was reduced to a low quality, blue eyes mellowing. “I would still be living half a mile away, wouldn’t I? There would be no disadvantages presented.”

Shaking his head and appearing constipated, Dean shrugged whilst tiny droplets tickled his face. He couldn’t continue speaking about something that absolutely wounded him in the deepest possible way, in a way that he couldn’t even decipher completely in that moment.

“We should start helping Sam and Jess clear away the decorations and tables and stuff. Don’t want the rain to come and wet everything.”

“Dean…” Castiel stopped him by taking his arm gently and he implored a further explanation. “You can’t just sidestep what we were talking about. It’s not –”

Shrugging off the other man’s grasp, Dean latched onto whatever composure he possessed to walk away. “Come on,” he said when Castiel didn’t follow. “Let’s see if there’s cake left back or if Crowley ate most of it.”

“Dean!” completely irritated by the rude interruption, the older man trailed after.

Sam, they discovered, was already finished with stacking away the tables and chairs and Jess, after clearing up the food gestured at the hanging décor and smiled.

“Figure you two could work on those,” she said. “The ladder is right over there.”

“Make sure you hold the ladder whilst one of you climb up,” Sam’s suggestive smile and wink didn’t go unnoticed by the other two men. “And don’t check each other’s asses out. That’s totally not what I mean.”

Dean, as furious as he could become by his brother’s directness, simply pushed the remarks onto the back burner. Speaking out loud about such things in front of Jess? Clearly Sam entertained the conversation with his wife if he could become so bold enough to make suggestions.

“I’ll climb up,” Dean said softly, taking the ladder and extending it with ease. He gestured at the balloons tied around the metal poles of the tent, “maybe you can work on those if you want. Give them to the kids.”

But even though the directive was offered with the utmost sincerity on Dean’s part to excuse his friend from taking the ladder, Castiel followed regardless. And after the younger man took the steps one at a time, he glanced down and witnessed the softest pools of blue gazing up at him. Then and only then did Dean grip the sides of the ladder firmer to steady himself, because the decision to accompany him withstanding what was said earlier seemed rather suspicious.

“You checking me out, Cas?” Dean asked after a while, trying to undo a knot at the end of a gold streamer. Smiling, tongue tucked between his teeth, he admired the immediate diversion of Castiel’s eyes.

“Absolutely not. I am too much in a sour mood to be entertained by you.”

“Oh, so it’s going to be like _that_?” After untwining the streamer, Dean released it to curl around his friend’s neck below. Then laughing whilst Castiel fought to untie the paper around his face, he descended the ladder and attempted to pull the decoration from the other man, softly capturing the decoration and prying it away. “Dammit, can you stay still?”

“For Christ’s sakes!” Castiel yanked the paper angrily and tossed it away, and somehow a piece of yellow still stuck to his forever disheveled hair.

“Wait a minute,” Dean’s tone was soft and in the process of reaching for the decoration, he witnessed those blue eyes transforming from a dark shade of blue to a mellower color, blinking slowly. “There,” holding up the bit of yellow between them, Dean smiled but couldn’t quite ascertain the meaning behind the change of the other man’s countenance.

“Why are you always teasing me?” Castiel offered no hint of humor whilst still gazing intently. “Hmm? Why do you always try to unsettle me?”

“With a goddamn streamer?” Dean collected the ladder and adjusted it under another string of decoration, smiling in the process. “Come on, man. Lighten up.”

“I’m talking about earlier. Refusing to finish our conversation, when you have been taught the importance of such.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Dean groaned, reaching up to untie the other streamer, his face registering mild frustration. “I just want a shower, a good book, a blanket and a cup of coffee before the storm hits.”

“Then let me climb the ladder, Dean. I can manage just fine whilst you go in and clean up.”

“No.”

“I insist.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Dean!”

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean yanked the streamer off the tent’s metal bar and almost lost his balance. Thankfully the misstep wasn’t tremendous enough to be witnessed by his friend standing at the bottom of the ladder. “You know, maybe _you_ need a shower, a book and a cup of tea. Make it two cups to calm you down because you’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just go home and relax and—”

“Fine by me,” Castiel nodded, his expression stolid, and releasing his grip on the ladder, he retreated in a stiff stride.

Dean, obviously stunned by the detachment, stared after the older man and sighed. “You need to hold the ladder!” he shouted. “Do you want me to fall on my ass?”

“Your pride will sprout wings wide enough to cushion you!” Castiel returned, already reaching the gate that swung open. “You don’t need me.”

“I need you!” Dean shouted back, balancing on the rung and smiling widely. “I need you like I need air to fill my lungs and a comb to comb my hair! Hey! Get back here!” he chuckled after the older man quickened his pace and crossed the moor in a haste.

Sam’s slow clap came as no surprise afterwards, and by then, Jess disappeared, chasing after the twins behind the house. “Very poetic. You forgot one thing though.” Those emerald eyes sparkled. “You need him to help you unzip your pants.”

“Don’t start,” Dean warned his brother, rolling up the decorations and dumping them roughly into a tub. “Don’t you dare start on me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Excerpt:**

_Charlie snorted, turned the key and fired up the Harley. “You know what, Dean Winchester? You’ve got your ego turned up so high, you can’t even see the truth. And the funny part is, I don’t even know you that well but from what I’ve heard, I can pretty much tell that you’re smitten.”_

_Obviously taken aback by the statement, Dean laughed. “Smitten by who? Taylor Swift?”_

_Swinging a leg over her bike, Charlie walked backwards and shook her head. “I can’t wait to meet Castiel. He must be **dreamy** for you to fall in love with.”_

* * *

Whilst growing up, Dean never lacked motherly care, in fact, there was quite an abundance of affections delivered by three women in his life after Mary’s death. Ellen, who obviously raised Sam and Dean from childhood, tending to their needs and teaching them the necessities in life to mature into fine young men.

Then there was Jody and her equally capable and feisty wife Donna who both, for a considerable amount of years after Dean’s birth, remained close to the Winchester family. Never lacking in entertainment, the pair always brought an abundance of joy during their visits and for a long time because of Jody growing up with Mary and John as family, she was like his own flesh and blood.

So, naturally, after promising himself that he would refrain from _holing_ up in the house for a considerable amount of weeks instead of days, Dean yanked the tarp off of his 67 Impala and hit the road.

Littleton lived up to its name and within a span of ten minutes, he discovered that along the way, his undying interest to peruse the bookstore for new titles seemed much more of importance. He adored books, built relationships with them more than people and the intoxicating smell was too glorious to pass over. And after killing the engine, Dean sat inside the car for about five minutes idling and trying to savor the sunlight on his arms but barely feeling any kind of warmth because of the chill in the air.

Just as he decided to hop out and tackle the bookstore though, the approaching roar of an engine crept up from behind the car. Spying in his rearview mirror, Dean quietly observed the shiniest black Harley pulling up, the rider petite and obviously a woman.

For a moment, he became mesmerized by the entire scene unfolding because if someone rode through the streets of Littleton on a bike like that, then the person was either a visitor passing through or someone who recently moved there.

Littleton wasn’t exactly a modernized town to begin with, still containing an abundance of antique shops, cute cottages and grasslands nestling estates. One might expect horseback riding to be quite in fashion but of course the hobby died out a few years ago and now was obviously replaced by bikes like the very kind behind his car.

The woman pulled off her black helmet, the sun’s light glinting on the glass, then she shook out long fiery red hair and caught quite a few stares from passersby. But nevertheless, being on the receiving end of admiration and scrutiny didn’t dent her composure because she moved with a purpose, dressed in faded blue jeans and a pink floral printed blouse. And after sauntering into the bookstore of all places, Dean sat back, scoffed and shook his head.

He guiltily pegged the woman as someone who obviously found books quite uninteresting but apparently it was a bad judgment of her character. And deciding that the mystery needed to be chased in order to discover the other traits of this obvious stranger, he got out of the car and jogged up to the bookstore.

The bell jingled as usual when he entered, drawing the attention of Metatron immediately, and after the short old man with a mischievous glint in his eyes waved with a smile, Dean’s gaze swept the store.

Why was he even chasing after the woman to begin with?

Perhaps there was something about her that intrigued him. Definitely disregarding his intent as _chasing a skirt_ as Ellen loved to tease, this wasn’t the motive. Instead, he wandered the aisles and after failing to locate the redhead, was about to reach for a copy of Seventeen when a tiny hand covered in all sorts of rings snatched it before he did.

“Last one,” the redhead appeared on the other side of the rack. “So, since I’m the girl here,” her green eyes reminded him of sparkling jewels, “guess who gets it? Me.”

“Hey, no way,” Dean tugged at the magazine but she refused to let go, “for your information, guys actually read this too.”

“You mean you’re the _only_ guy who reads it. I bet there’s more coming. Or if you want, as soon as I’m done, I’ll give it to you. Wait!” She lashed his hand away after he tried to snatch it again. “If there’s a full-page photo of any actor or actress inside, I want it.”

“The cover has Taylor Swift,” Dean offered a pleading look, “I like Taylor Swift. You can’t deprive me of this. I’ve been a fan since her first album.”

“Sure,” she hugged the magazine and narrowed her eyes, rather much amused. “What’s your favorite song then?”

For a while he struggled with the answer, and obviously her suspicion grew. “I can’t pick one. But if I had to, most likely _Haunted_ or _Style_ or _Back to December, Hey Stephen,_ not forgetting _Love Story, Red, King of my Heart_ —”

“Okay, fine,” she was too impressed to conceal it, eyeing his denim jacket, the red plaid shirt and black vest beneath. “I guess guys do dig her music. Funny that you don’t really seem like the type to listen to soppy girl feelings but then, you do look kind of…pretty boyish so are you…you know…”

Dean stared at her, obviously clueless as the question remained in the air. “Am I what? A Swiftie? Hell yeah.”

Clearly it wasn’t the answer she wished to receive. “You know what?” she shook her head and sighed, smiling incredulously. “Never mind. What’s your name you handsome fellow you? Mine’s Charlie Bradbury.”

“Dean Winchester,” he said proudly, offering a hand.

Charlie took it, actually fell for the gesture and in one swift move, no pun intended, he swiped the magazine from her grasp and stood back beaming. The glint of fire inside her green eyes was so sudden, it dulled his playfulness to a surprised look and then bashfully, Dean handed the copy of Seventeen over again.

“You can have it,” he said swallowing hard, “ladies first. And anyway, my best friend gets his hands on those from his brother. So, it’s bound to show up sometime. Knock yourself out.” The two of them stared at each other awkwardly and then after nervously laughing, Dean gestured behind him, “see you around.”

Charlie was entirely strange in the oddest way to Dean because she obviously contained a wealth of mysteries behind those green eyes and those sorts of people rather much intrigued him to become familiar with their story. Maybe she was a complete stranger, possibly passing through town but there was something about her that seemed rather familiar. He could have sworn that they met before and after perusing a shelf of old classics, it suddenly struck him.

Saint Anne’s Orphanage

Last year after Christmas he remembered running into a girl in the hallway and after noticing that she seemed terribly fatigued, naturally Dean stopped to inquire. That’s when she related to him that at the age of eighteen, which she was at that time, the girls decided whether to leave the orphanage or take up residence as a caregiver in the town. Because of the winter storm burying Littleton for quite some time, she had no choice but to stay and all her life, the only motivation resided in leaving the godforsaken place.

Just as he was wondering what happened to her within the past months, Dean felt a tap on his shoulder and when the two of them faced each other, the familiarity was finally mutual.

“I can’t forget a handsome face. I kept wondering what happened to you,” she said smiling, clearly bubbling up from excitement. “You were the guy who helped plan the Christmas party that flopped. I forgot to ask your name back then because I wanted to find you.”

“Yeah?” he felt somewhat anxious about her reason though and wondered a little more on whether good things indeed happened to her after that day in December.

“You have no idea how low I was that night. I was in the pits of hell, about to do something stupid and don’t you remember what you said to me?”

Dean scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “I guess not. All I remember is that you wanted to leave.”

“You told me to follow my heart. I was going to leave a place I thought was a prison and when I thought about going out there and being all alone, I turned my perspective around,” Charlie squeezed his arm. “I followed my heart and kind of realized that there were all these kids in there feeling just as I was; like they were in a prison, wishing someone could love them and understand them.”

“So, you stayed,” he stared at her, eyes widened from disbelief and utter admiration.

“I stayed,” Charlie nodded slowly, and she laughed. “And it was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’m so happy now. I love the kids so much and the best part of it is, I keep telling them that there was this guy who gave me the best advice and if he didn’t, then I wouldn’t be there with them. Thank you so much,” she didn’t seek permission but rushed forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Well, good for you,” Dean softened up from her story, hugging the bundle of warmth tenderly. “I’m so happy that you found your purpose. And how weird is it that we ended up meeting again, huh?”

“Call it fate, I guess. How is it that I’ve never seen you around town really?”

When Dean thought about the question, the answer was painfully obvious. “Kind of terribly introverted. You know, I like being indoors instead of out and about. But I’m trying to change that a little by starting today. You probably don’t know how it goes…”

“I mean, I like being outside, so if you need someone to hang with, I’m all in. Maybe we can go through the magazine together,” Charlie held it up and beamed. “Do you like books? Well,” she rolled her eyes, “obviously you do. You’re in a bookstore. The orphanage has precisely forty-five titles and I’ve read them all. So, with the little allowance I get, I pool it up and buy a book.”

They walked the lanes slowly, and Dean honestly discovered that her company was beyond comforting. Her wealth of knowledge on books was beyond admirable, and after she begun to introduce him to modern titles like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter, which he was always skeptical to try because of Castiel’s disapproval, Dean realized one thing.

He stumbled into someone who would become a wonderful friend and because they were so aligned with each other’s likes and dislikes, the conversation lasted quite a long time inside the store until the clock displayed after eleven and Dean suddenly remembered his visit with the Mills.

“Maybe you should come along,” he invited her after they exited the bookstore. “I get the feeling you’ll like my aunts. I bet you know Sheriff Hanscum.”

“Oh, Donna is so fun,” Charlie laughed and tucked the magazine into her satchel after handing over the cash to Metatron and his bushy grey hair. “Last month she brought around the police car to the orphanage and showed the kids how to work the siren. The neighbors complained so much. But we enjoyed it.”

Dean laughed, just imagining the nuisance. “Then come join us for lunch.”

“You sure they wouldn’t mind?”

When he voiced his disagreement in Charlie’s inclusion being bothersome, she fired up her Harley and followed him the rest of the way. All the while though, Dean entertained the excitement of how easy the act of making friends was for him. He could randomly meet someone and bond with them based on their tastes. And if those tastes varied, then Dean eagerly absorbed new knowledge with the intent of equipping himself with topics to further the conversation.

Just as the two of them joined each other again, after arriving in front row of flats on Peter Rose Street, who should come their way but no other than Crowley. His abundance of smiles and plenty amusement never failed the charming disposition people adored. But there was always something about him that Dean considered as almost too reserved; or as Castiel loved to label as _compensating for the wrongs._

Immediately, Crowley struck up a warming conversation with Charlie about donations a local farmer wanted to make to the church. In such a cold season, the charitable act created by the church was to put together _green hampers_ with the main intent of distributing those to less fortunate families in the town. And because Charlie was so eager to assist, lending her enthusiasm to the venture, Crowley welcomed the conversation.

She seemed as animated as possible, compared to the last time they crossed paths a year ago. Gone were her crestfallen looks and replaced by nothing but amusement, an abundance of words and a flirty attitude. And on the last quality expressed by Charlie, Dean stood there observing the pair and he thought of nothing else but how easy the chemistry between the Deacon and his friend seemed to blossom.

In all manner of expressing his internal thoughts, he was of the opinion that their personalities aligned quite remarkably. Their conversation never dulled until Crowley asked after Dean’s wellbeing and even then, Charlie tugged the Deacon’s attention towards the discussion on preparing a small thanksgiving service for the orphanage in two weeks’ time. By then, Dean finalized his guilty and reflexive mind to admire the possible attachment of the pair to be based on their compatibility. And after Crowley left their company, he delivered a warming smile whilst she only shrugged with flushed cheeks.

“Dean!” Jody’s spirits never dulled for as long as Dean knew her and there she lingered by the doorway awaiting their entry, “come in! You wouldn’t believe who arrived this morning.”

“More like what the cat dragged in,” Donna said cheerfully from the living room, buttoning up her uniform and bubbling from happiness as always.

Charlie was well received, and the two of them immediately ushered into the upstairs flat and settled on a sofa in front of the fireplace. At first, Dean misunderstood the mention of the stranger’s arrival until the door to kitchen was pulled open by a familiar face. And when he realized how perhaps five years matured the pretty features surrounded by blonde hair, Dean gasped, sprang up and slowly approached the beaming teenager.

“Claire?”

She smiled mischievously and nodded, then playfully punched his arm. “It’s been too long, Winchester.”

For a number of years, perhaps sixteen to be exact, Dean understood that certain things in Littleton were better left untouched by light conversation like the birth of the young girl who wrapped him in a tight, affectionate hug. Their close relationship when she was last in town over five years ago never faded from his memory and because they were friends since she learned to walk, the bond never died away. But what remained the most painful and tragic part of their friendship stemmed from the one mutual person they both shared.

Her father happened to be no other than Dean’s best friend; Castiel Novak. And whilst the father daughter relationship remained strained because of a terrible decision made when Claire was born, Dean always adored her. The strength and willpower, her ability to traverse the country independently, studying arts and culture and everything except her family. And for many years, Dean tried with difficulty to remain connected to her but failed because Claire seldom spent time in Littleton.

“Does your dad know that you’re here?” he already feared the answer but was hopeful.

Claire sighed, plopped onto the chair and appeared downcast. “Nope, and probably wouldn’t know it’s me. The last time he saw me was over six years ago because the last time I came here, I couldn’t go up there,” she said, referring to the Novak estate.

As much as Dean gathered from Ellen over the years, Claire’s mother Amelia Novak and Castiel briefly entertained a relationship and marriage that never blossomed because of certain disadvantages. No one really wished to talk about those, especially not Castiel who avoided the topic like the plague. But as far as Dean understood about the tragedy, Amelia refused to identify Castiel as the baby’s father. Immediately after she died whilst giving birth, Claire was handed over to the convent to be adopted. And Jody and Donna, after being persuaded by Castiel, adopted Claire to raise her as their own.

However, as the years progressed and Claire went in search of answers, she discovered who her father really was and despised him. Claire was of the belief for a very long time that Castiel disowned her, didn’t care at all and wished to live his life in peace in a very attractive estate on the outskirts of Littleton. She still believed that her father wronged Amelia and always refused to speak to him, despite Castiel’s pleas and efforts to reach out.

Dean never brought Claire up because he couldn’t forget ten years ago when Castiel stayed away from the Winchester house for over a week after the topic was broached by John. And ever since then, no one spoke about the origins and because Claire remained far from Littleton for prolonged periods stretching into years, Castiel survived with a cheerful disposition whilst everyone gave him the liberty to bury his pain without touching the bruise.

Charlie and Donna ended up becoming too engaged in a conversation about something pertaining to the orphanage. Jody, Claire and Dean on the other hand, entertained each other by catching up. The mention of Claire frequenting New York and her exciting experience piqued Dean’s interest a bit, but he never felt compelled to leave Littleton no matter how many times people tried to convince him that great wonders existed elsewhere.

Very soon though, the conversation wound back to Castiel and after Claire promised that she would try to reach out to her father, Jody pleaded that those efforts remain in a positive light. After all, Castiel’s reputation was respectful in the town and for his own daughter to portray him as a monster seemed to be quite unfair. No one understood how hurt Claire was but the only person who could provide answers was the one person she avoided.

“So, you and Cas got together as yet?” she teased Dean openly, hugging a mug of cocoa and smirking. “And I’m talking about being more than friends. You know, like kissing on the lips and so much more.”

“Claire,” Jody warned, eyeing Charlie joining them on the couch cautiously. “Don’t overstep. We have a visitor.” The last bit she whispered frantically, hoping that the newcomer couldn’t catch onto the conversation.

“I’m just wondering because everyone talks about it like it’s a sure thing.”

“Everyone being?” Dean suddenly felt irritated that the topic kept coming up constantly in different circles.

Claire jerked her chin at Jody and Donna. The two of them immediately sent across looks of warning. “I mean, it’s not like anything is wrong with it if you two are dating. I don’t mind.”

“Dean, how is your father?” Jody interjected with a wide smile, obviously aching to change the topic. “I talked to him about a week ago. Is his knee still giving him problems?”

Although he was still terribly upset by his aunts gossiping about his relationship with Castiel, Dean softened a little and shrugged. “I keep telling him to go easy but he hits those cars up like the world is going to end tomorrow.”

“Lemonade anyone?” Donna, always cheerful, offered, “or cocoa? Dear me, Claire served herself and didn’t even ask anyone else. Wherever are your manners?” she pinched the teenager’s right ear and received a scowl.

After engaging in a conversation about the departure of Ellen from the Winchester household, Jody expressed how concerned she was about John. His health suffered immensely after Mary’s death and the nanny always offered a very promising companion over the years. But with her marriage, Ellen was whisked two miles away to reside with her new husband.

“I mean, he still has Bobby in the workshop,” Jody shrugged and sipped on her cup of coffee. “Glad the two of them patch up that friendship. Those days were good days when we all used to hang out in the mountains.”

“What about Castiel?” Donna frowned at her wife. “Doesn’t miss a dinner,” this she directed at Dean who avoided Claire’s grin like the plague. “Always good with conversation. I bet the two of them talk lots. Castiel always brought up the best topics.”

“All of us used to hang out together,” Jody explained to Charlie who remained silent but observant. “Me, Donna, Dean’s dad and mom, Castiel, Bobby, Ellen. Back in those days we didn’t have technology so it was the good old nature we relied on. Used to build campfires up in the mountains and go fishing in the summer.”

“Good old days,” Donna sighed dreamily at the ceiling fan, shoulders slumped. She was still decked out in her Sheriff uniform and since Jody’s promotion last year to Chief Lieutenant for the district, the two of them made quite a powerful pair.

“So Dean,” Claire came over eventually and squeezed herself between Charlie and her older friend after Donna left for work and Jody retreated to check on the laundry. The smile on the teenager’s face was glorified by an enthusiasm that couldn’t possibly die away. “Tell me the truth without the adults around. You know, about Castiel.”

Dean sighed and immediately felt uncomfortable because of his new friend’s presence. “What do you want me to say, Claire? There’s nothing _to_ tell.”

“Come on. You expect me to believe that crap? The two of you obviously have the hots for each other and everyone knows about it. Big deal. It’s been going on for years,” Claire turned to plead with Charlie for reason. “The two of them basically cling to each other like jam to toast and it’s so obvious.”

“We don’t…” but his words died away after realizing that there was so much truth behind her statement.

“Okay, hold up,” Charlie’s eyes shone, “so, who is this Castiel and how old is she?”

Instantly Dean buried his face into his hands, clearly ashamed, and Claire smiled from ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. It was a little too much to tolerate because of the inclusion of a stranger now into the midst of their gossip. Claire, evidently needed to prove a point and her inability to respect boundaries flustered Dean so much. He felt somewhat wrongfully pinpointed as the highlight of the conversation and wished that she would simply shut up.

“ _Castiel_ is my biological father,” Claire said, completely providing Charlie with her undivided attention, “and he’s Dean’s senior by twenty years.”

The red-head’s eyes widened from disbelief. “Oh, I thought that he’s a _she_. For reals? This is…” Charlie’s eyes latched onto Dean trying to melt into the couch behind Claire. “This is making you so uncomfortable. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Exactly! The whole reason why it’s making him look so constipated is because it’s the truth!”

Both of them turned to stare at Dean, eagerly awaiting an answer that perhaps seemed to be stalled by a refusal to contribute. And not a word was offered within two minutes, so Claire directed a smug look at Charlie.

“I mean, Dean, nothing’s wrong with having feelings for a guy,” Charlie begun in a sympathetic tone. “And older guys are hot. Look, I bet this…Castiel guy aged like wine.” The last bit she produced with a smile. “And there’s no harm in admiring the good stuff.”

“Look, I’m not into him like that, okay?” Dean felt wounded, like he was pressured to climb through the cloud of accusations and provide the truth. “Sure, he’s handsome and he aged like wine and all. But he’s just my best friend. And even if I do…like him in _that_ way, he wouldn’t ever see me as…” Dean’s words died down after a shrug. “Why am I even defending myself to a sixteen year old?”

“For your information, this sixteen year old has travelled more than you, gained experiences you may never get and is the daughter of the guy you’re in love with—”

“I’m not in love with him!” Dean sprang up, hands fisted and he glared at Claire. Immediately when he realized how quickly his temper magnified into an outburst, he relaxed, let out a long sigh and thanked the heavens that Jody peeped in to assess the heightened tones.

“Why don’t you join me in the kitchen, Claire?” the older woman asked in a clipped tone, evidently certain of the topic of conversation. “Help me fix up the salad so we can get lunch going. Now!”

After the brooding blonde left, throwing a pitiful glance at the two young people on the couch, the room remained silent until Charlie scooted over into Dean’s personal space. Jabbing him playfully and smiling, she accused him of scowling and ruining his handsome features. In reply, Dean shook his head, chuckled and relaxed because Charlie’s aura was contagious, pulling out all the tension and replacing it with nothing but cheerfulness. And maybe that’s why he savored her friendship that began a little too fast but felt a lot like a lasting one.

“So, who is this Castiel fella really? Do you think of him when you listen to Taylor Swift? Is he the _King of your Heart_?” her openness merely reflected that the intent was to lighten his mood, not to worsen the irritation.

“I’ve known him since I was a baby basically,” Dean admitted softly, studying his hands and shrugging. “When you know someone for that long, you kind of bond with them more than anyone else.”

“Are we talking about a bond like Harry and Ron or Sherlock and Watson? Because one’s totally gay but the other is meh. And think before you answer because this is like one of those games that one answer leads into the next question.” Charlie’s expression remained so comical, Dean couldn’t refrain from laughing.

“Man, I don’t know at all.”

When he thought about Castiel, Dean desired nothing more than the comfort of being able to openly express himself. There was also the guilty fact of knowing that Castiel sought out his companionship as much as he favored it in return. But apart from that, there was nothing more than the dying need to have intense conversations about various topics. And because they were so trusting of each other, Dean couldn’t betray that trust by gossiping about his own best friend.

“You tucked that Seventeen magazine away good enough? Because I still want to steal it.”

“Hey, wait your turn,” Charlie evidently fell for the diversion in their conversation. “And besides, you have to start catching up on the rest of the Harry Potter series, remember? You promised. And then The Lord of the Rings.”

“Alright fine,” he admitted in defeat with a shrug, “I also have to study for exams so I should be occupied. Plus, with Christmas coming up and all, we got to start prepping for the Christmas party.”

“And if you’re to help me with the green hampers, then we’re more than booked!”

By the time lunch was consumed and the two of them left equally content and cheeks flushed from the fire, a walk in the cool overcast weather seemed just about essential. And since Dean’s lack of exposure to the town prevented him from visiting the shops along Main Street, the two of them left the bike and car resting in front of the Mills’ apartment. And one by one, Dean and Charlie checked out the oddities and merchandise, ranging from fine pieces of furniture to her pulling him into the lingerie department.

The afternoon passed by uneventful until the entry of a very conflicting character into the scene that immediately unsettled Dean. And he refused to admit that his guilty intentions were more damaging than promising. But forever stubborn and laced with pride, he simply refused to acknowledge his own flaws in meddling with other people’s lives.

Dorothy’s instant chemistry with Charlie couldn’t go unnoticed for she was the kind of woman who desired nothing more than to make her affections known to the world. So, after introductions were made, Dean becoming aware that this was the farmer who supplied the vegetables and fruits for the green hampers the church distributed, he offered nothing more than praise. Remarks were delivered for her abundance of kindness and then everything went well as Dean gravitated towards her wonderful personality until she committed a very terrible crime.

“So, when is our second date, sweetie?” Dorothy smiled, and brushed her fingers over Charlie’s cheeks dusted pink. “No offense, but the first one was two months ago and I’ve been dying to take you out again.”

“Um,” evidently roused by the question, Charlie ducked her head bashfully and glanced at Dean, “well, in all fairness, the Princess has to like…play hard to get once and a while. If it was easy, then it wouldn’t be fun, would it?”

“True,” Dorothy laughed and took Charlie’s right hand softly into hers, their eyes connected instantly. “My fair love, will you do me the honor of going out with me again and still trying to play hard to get?”

One glance at Dean’s face wiped away Charlie’s smile and she immediately contained her abundance of lightheartedness behind a stolid expression.

“I mean, I’ll think about it,” she offered a shrug, evidently affected by her new friend’s countenance. “I’ve got plenty to do anyway and…whatever.”

“Who’s _that_?” Dean asked after the strange woman departed, armed with an abundance of colorful socks and quite contented that she would receive a confirmative answer soon enough.

“Just a girl I’ve known for a while now. We met each other during a scavenger hunt about three months ago and since we’re both fans of Lord of the Rings…” Charlie’s smile brightened but was downed by none in return. “Anyway, she’s kind of cute and not into all those girly stuff that’s icky.”

“She’s also rude,” Dean pointed out boldly, collecting a black jersey from a rack and frowning at the slogan _Snitches Get Stitches_ in white. The article of clothing rather much suited Claire who would wear it with pride.

Charlie though, stared back and was obviously clueless. “Like how though?”

“Dude, she basically jumped right into it. Flirting and asking you out on a second date like if that’s of any interest to you. And don’t give me that look. I bet she totally misread the first time you two hung out. You wouldn’t consider _that_ as a date, would you?”

When Charlie prolonged the staring, Dean scoffed. “FYI, I’m actually interested in girls. So, if that’s a problem to you, then fine but don’t expect me to hold back on who I am to please anyone.”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m not judgmental. Never been and I don’t consider myself homophobic because I’m open to people being attracted to the same gender. But you don’t deserve her.” Dean took Charlie’s arm and tugged her out of the store in fear of the two of them running into the other woman. “You’re too smart and good looking to settle for less than someone who is respected, smart and can give you a better life.”

The two of them walked down the street and Charlie frowned at the ground. “I mean, I barely know her.”

“She’s a farmer. Her nails are muddy and so are her booths. And farmer Browns? So not cool.” Those were the least of his worries apart from the other woman’s humble abode to consider. Pigs, maybe? Rearing an abundance of smelly livestock.

“Good things just never come my way. If I could find someone who likes me for who I am and I like them back, then that’s all that matters right?”

“Holed up in a farmhouse that reeks of manure and fleas living in your furniture? I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for, are you?”

“Well, no.” Charlie sighed and sidestepped a crack on the pavement. “Not really. I guess that’s totally not appealing when you put it that way.”

“Besides, you want to be with someone who doesn’t make you lose your job.”

For a while, Charlie thought about the consequences and still couldn’t determine the hazards. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, the orphanage! The nuns would totally let you go if news gets out there that you’re dating a woman. And I know you love those kids, don’t you? So, why risk all of that, huh? Suppose you can find a guy that’s pretty decent enough to make you change your mind about winding up with a girl?” Dean was far too convinced that she deserved better and it was a guilty trait embedded inside of him to take care of those he loved.

“I’m still to find that guy who makes me weak in the knees.”

“Doesn’t always have to be like that, you know,” Dean eyed the black Harley glinting despite the lack of sunshine. “Love is much more about being comfortable with someone, happy and contented enough for you to spend the rest of your life with them. I’m not much of an expert but at least that’s what I’d want.”

“You mean someone like a best friend…” Charlie fitted on her helmet and eyed Dean’s lack of consciousness in relating the truth easily. “Someone who you have to know for a considerable amount of time before taking the jump.”

“Yeah, someone who gets you despite the whole weak in the knees aspect.” Dean pulled open the door and leaned onto the Impala. He winked at Charlie whilst turning the key and the engine roared to life. “I bet you’ve met that guy already.”

“Who, you? Dude, no offense but I don’t get that vibe with you. Unless…” her eyes widened, “ _you_ do?”

“Nah, I’m not into red-heads.”

“Ass,” Charlie snorted, turned the key and fired up the Harley. She revved the engine and received a few stares from people passing down the street. “You know what, Dean Winchester? You’ve got your ego turned up so high, you can’t even see the truth. And the funny part is, I don’t even know you that well but from what I’ve heard, I can pretty much tell that you’re smitten.”

Obviously taken aback by the statement, Dean laughed. “Smitten by who? Taylor Swift?”

Swinging a leg over her bike, Charlie walked backwards and shook her head. “I can’t wait to meet Castiel. He must be dreamy for you to fall in love with.”

“Wait, what?” he shouted after she gunned the engine and roared away. And no matter how much Dean tried to evade the reference, his mind kept spinning.

Returning home, the most difficult part was trying to focus on his studies as the inevitable rush of conversations from the day behind him consumed his mind. The excessive doubts that arose from people trying to force their opinions on him when clearly the truth was anything but what they convinced themselves to believe. Jody and Donna included could never be more wrong by assuming that best friends could most definitely blossom into more than that. And because he was unjustly judged, Dean’s mood soured well into the evening.

He thought that small towns survived on the fuel of gossip more than anything else, and no one cared about how misjudgments could wound someone’s character. It was very troubling for Dean to ponder on the consequences of those rumors spreading across the town, especially when he wondered how his father would react to such a controversial bit of news.

John raised him and Sam to be respectful; with the best education avenues regardless the choices Sam made to move away. Dean’s entire life was comfortable and disciplined enough to achieve a public view of being accomplished in most areas. And a tarnished reputation derived from any relation of falling prey to being romantically inclined to another man…

He couldn’t even focus on that afternoon’s class pertaining to Chinese Traditions and Beliefs because the anxious feeling of walking around town and wondering if everyone highlighted him as _gay_ was weighing down like a terminal illness. And the more he thought about the gossips, the more he developed a phobia to remain indoors instead of venturing out because contrary to popular beliefs by Ellen and his father and Sam, Dean really cared about other people’s opinions pertaining to him. He couldn’t live with himself if his father discovered the silly gossip and reprimanded the respect and proper image he always portrayed.

By the time Dean hopped into the shower and emerged in a cloud of steam, it was after six and very irritated, he descended the stairs dressed in a light denim shirt and faded blue jeans. The air smelled like baked potatoes and minced pies and although his appetite dwindled away earlier in the day, the wave crept up again from the extra exertion to pay attention during his class.

As soon as Dean heard Castiel’s laughter drifting out from the kitchen though, he immediately froze on the steps.

A coldness washed over him. It was the kind of feeling he only experienced when overwhelmed by uncertainty on how to approach a situation or a person. Memories of presenting in front of a classroom of eyes in high school came to mind but this was by far the most crucial point in time to highlight one difference. There wasn’t a sea of faces but just the expectation of one man’s appearance that troubled Dean more than he cared to entertain.

“There he is! Stop hiding and come down here,” John appeared by the door leading into the kitchen and beamed at his son. “I’ve got to tell you, I’ve never tasted a better wine. You know, I had no idea you brewed,” this, he directed at the only other person in close proximity. “Pour a glass for Dean.”

“Certainly,” _Mister Novak_ agreed, still concealed from view and Dean guiltily thought that if he considered the older man without an intimate familiarity on first name basis, then maybe his brain would be tricked to overwriting the entire debate.

“I was telling Castiel that one of the cars overheated midday when you weren’t here,” John provided as he pulled out a chair and sat by the table. “Thank god Bobby was there because I was under another one and couldn’t see a thing.”

Dean settled onto the chair in silence and sighed, but the absence of conversation of course went unnoticed by his father, who immediately rounded up plenty of words to compensate.

“We don’t want you to be fried crispy,” Castiel came through the door from the kitchen frowning but with a spring in his step. “Littleton would suffer without its most trusted mechanic.”

Barely registering that his best friend was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and no tie, Dean surrendered to observing everything else in detail except the older man. And because his attention diverted from the table to the contents of the room, Castiel’s keen attention to Dean’s behavior instantly ignited suspicion. Thankfully, John’s piqued interest in the other man’s most recent client being no other than Ellen fueled the conversation. But those blue eyes still rested on green ones constantly and he was quite aware of the scrutiny.

“How’s the wine, Dean?” Castiel slipped in between John’s ramblings. “You’re taking it slow and by far that’s the best decision to savor the quality.”

“It’s not too bad,” Dean sipped some more and decided to replace anxiousness with humor, “but it would be better if it wasn’t made by you.”

“Dean,” John didn’t scrutinize his son’s words too much, “the two of you don’t start on each other before we eat. Leave that for afterwards when I run out of topics.”

“I’d rather he say _something_ than sit there looking constipated,” Castiel smiled sweetly at Dean whilst swirling around his wine in a small glass. “Anything but a smile on that handsome face is unbecoming.”

“Come, let’s eat,” John picked up the spoon and helped himself although he seemed entirely humored by the exchange of words between the two other men.

They ate in silence for a while until the discussion centered on an article in the newspapers about cutting down the trees in the forest. Therein, deforestation was brought up and because Castiel’s passion resided in preserving the environment, Dean was forced to listen to the two of them explore the topic.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Castiel whispered to Dean after John returned to the game on television, “I’m not so bad at wine making. In fact, I’ve done it for years.”

“Never meant it really,” Dean referred to his earlier slight as both of them settled on the window seat again. “Was just joking with you.” This time though, the tension that arose earlier evaporated and was replaced by their usual comfortable warmth.

“Always amused by me. Did you have a fantastic day?”

“Meh. You?”

Castiel sighed, and tilted his head to study the television. “Not so much but I have quite a surprise to relate to you, dearest Dean. And brace yourself, because this might astonish you in more ways than one. Or perhaps,” Castiel frowned over his glass of wine, “it might thrill you but I hope not. Hmm,” rubbing his bottom lip upon the rim of the glass, he blinked slowly as if internally assessing something.

Dean, on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the simple gesture because his friend was always full of surprises. “Anytime now, Cas,” he smiled. “Or as Ellen would say, better out than in.”

“You know, it’s quite funny that you would mention Ellen because Jo is in town again.”

“Wait, what?” It couldn’t be because the last time he communicated with the younger Harvelle, she mentioned nothing about visiting Littleton.

Dean’s past with Ellen’s daughter was colored with a high school romance that ended badly. To say the least, Jo was poorly used as a rebound for six months, and after being advised by his father to cease the childish display, Dean resorted to suggesting that the two of them remain as friends. Establish some kind of cordiality, John simply asked because of the link to their family.

However, because Jo’s feelings were stronger than his own, she left Littleton to study in Canada with a badly broken heart. But they still tried to keep in contact over the years via Facebook although their parents warned against it.

“She wanted to be here for the wedding apparently,” Castiel continued in a softened tone whilst half of his mind escaped somewhere else, “but she missed it because of exams and after returning today, I ran into her and her mother. She seems quite changed and if I didn’t recognize her face, I will admit that her attitude has altered drastically.”

“In what way?” Dean’s refusal to conceal his intrigue never slipped by his friend’s scrutiny.

“She is much more composed, and soft spoken, as I can recall from this morning’s visit,” Castiel highlighted with a smile. “Less frisky and very matured in mannerism. Studying abroad independently shapes a young person’s character immensely. You might be pleased to cast your eyes on the change but I must warn you, Dean—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes, “don’t worry because those feelings were barely there so there’s nothing left but the interest to grow our friendship. Wait, why did Ellen take her over by you?”

Castiel’s blue eyes widened and his smile stretched from ear to ear. “Ah, the question I was waiting for. It appears that Jo made a very bad financial decision and needed my advice. I, of course, gave my opinions free of charge like the kind hearted man I am.”

Dean waited, their gaze connected and wondered silently how someone’s eyes could contain the exact blue of the sky. When he was younger, he used to believe Ellen’s bizarre theory that Castiel secretly worked among them as an angel. The depth of the color of his eyes was something that always mesmerized Dean and no matter how long he gazed into those pools of blue, the feeling of becoming lost inside of them always presented itself.

“So?” he tried to implore a further explanation. “What did she do that was so bad to require advice from an expert like you?”

“Um, what?” Castiel slowly blinked and appeared as lost as Dean seemed to be, then he cleared his throat and returned to sipping some more wine. “Forgive me but the matter was dealt with in strict confidence.”

“Be like that,” Dean sighed and shook his head, always feeling downcast whenever something of importance couldn’t be divulged, especially in relation to his best friend. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Dean, I really can’t tell you anything and I do apologize for that,” Castiel’s genuine discontentment in his oath of confidentiality wounded his tone. “You should know that she asked after your health. Jo, I mean.”

“Well, I bet that you told her everything that pleases me.”

“I never fail you.”

“Except to bring up a damn topic and expect me to _not_ ask about it,” Dean added gruffly, wondering why his anger flared a little like the flames licking the logs when such a thing never happened so quickly before between them.

“You seem upset and I’ve noticed the change since you came down for dinner,” Castiel said softly, focusing on the game on the television in front of them. And there it was. The incredible ability to read the younger man without even conducting a full scrutiny on his countenance or demeanor. “Tell me what happened to bring about this sour mood.”

Dean sighed again and folded his arms, wishing that for once he could be allowed the privilege of letting his irritation slip by without notice. “It’s nothing. I just had a very exhausting day and there’s a million things running through my mind that I don’t know how to handle.”

“I heard that you made a new friend today on your little escapade into town.”

“News travels fast,” Dean stared into blue orbs that seemed softer and wondered how in the world an entire ocean as well as the sky could be captured in such perfection inside Castiel’s eyes. “Let me guess. Jody and Donna?”

The older man’s small nod seemed less like himself and more like he was struggling to appear enlightened. Dean wondered after the change, and believed that perhaps the man’s tiresome day exhausted him. But there was something else that couldn’t quite be easily read because Castiel always was quite skilled at concealing his inner thoughts. He could seldom decipher what went on behind those blue eyes and many times he detested the wall.

“Her name’s Charlie Bradbury,” Dean tried a smile and bumped their shoulders. “You’d like her. She’s obsessed with Lord of the Rings and Percy Jackson. Plus, she rides a Harley.”

“I’m familiar with her,” Castiel’s focus on the television seemed to be his way of denying Dean the opportunity to assess his countenance. “She thinks that her parents died in a car crash many years ago. Very tragic and I would suggest that you refrain from bringing it up at all. But her mother is in a coma in the hospital and the poor girl has no idea that she’s still alive. She thinks that she is an orphan and maybe it’s better that way because her mother is in a manner of speaking, brain dead.”

Dean’s immediate response was a gasp followed by widened eyes and immediate silence. When he felt that the news settled after five minutes though, the pain still resided inside his chest. And because of Charlie’s bright personality, and her lack of knowledge about her mother’s state, Dean felt terribly conflicted by the tragedies of life.

He wanted to understand his friend’s backstory a little more but didn’t believe he had the authority to question anything. In most cases, it was better to allow someone to come to you with their tragedies than to pry the details from them.

“Well there goes my slice of happiness for this evening,” Dean mumbled, “I mean, she’s just…the warmest person who radiates with so much happiness. I can’t imagine how something so terrible could happen to someone so special. I instantly connected with her.” He told Castiel about how his advice to Charlie the year prior inspired her to stick around in the orphanage.

“That’s nice that you’ve made a new friend. And with Jo back in town, I’m sure that the two of you will become familiar again as friends too. You’ll have plenty of companionship now instead of relying on my visits and conversations.”

“Dammit, Cas, don’t say that,” Dean studied the other man’s face and immediately felt bruised. “You’ll always be my best friend above anyone else. No one can make up for twenty-five years of scolding and confiding in each other about everything. You’re more of a guardian angel than anything else. And we have a deeper bond than what I share with Sam, for instance because I don’t run to him with everything. I run to tell you first and maybe that sounds really weird but I’d rather have you.”

The scrutiny continued and then the air between them grew less tense than before. “I’d rather have you too, Dean,” Castiel said softly, and when his tone dipped a little, their eyes connected. “Suddenly I have the most terrible headache though.” He lightly kneaded his temple, and frowned. “Will you walk me out now?”

The sudden decision to depart for the night, at least one hour earlier than any other occasion was quite unusual. Considering though that a day’s events of frustrating duties could initiate a headache, the older man’s woes were more than enough. And after he bid John a good night, Castiel collected his trench coat and followed Dean out the front door.

The night settled into a stillness that promised rain or snow, no one really knew anymore, but the feeling of déjà vu rested on Dean like a heavy blanket. It always did; every single night when he walked the older man out and the two of them parted. But on many occasions, their farewell was brief. Castiel would drift along by his side, and then after a few sentences, leave Dean to join the path leading towards the Novak estate.

On some nights though, their conversation continued for quite some time under the stars and that night was one of those.

“Cas, before you go,” Dean touched his forehead and felt conflicted. The other man stalled by the small wooden bench and turned around. “I don’t mean to bring this up because I know that it’s…well it’s not really a good topic of discussion but you and I, we tell each other stuff regardless. And I don’t want to keep things from you because you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Dean, what is it?” Castiel asked softly, as the wind lightly flapped the bottom of his trench coat, brown tie twisted in the wrong direction and not a crease on his shirt or pants. 

“I think you should sit down for this one,” Dean gestured at the bench and pleaded with a deepened gaze. “No, really,” he insisted when his friend remained standing and appeared terribly anxious.

If he was going to do this, the manner in which it was delivered needed to be in a relaxed fashion. So when Castiel lowered himself onto the seat, Dean joined him, legs spread apart and hands collected together. He wrung his fingers from worry, wondering how to broach the subject. But nevertheless, with the bandwagon kicked off and rolling, there was no turning back so bracing himself for the inevitable, he inhaled deeply.

“Cas, um, your daughter, Claire,” he cleared his throat, and eyed the other man cautiously, “she’s back in town.”

For a long time, the silence between them was filled with nothing but a weight hanging above their heads. Dean eventually thought that he really spoke the few words inside of his mind because Castiel kept staring at him and there was nothing left but to provide the same kind of pleading look in return.

“You must be mistaken,” the older man said finally in a softer tone and shaking his head.

“No, Cas. I’m not. I went to visit Jody and Donna today and she was there. They looked as surprised as me that she just showed up all of a sudden. I think she came in last night and—” Dean began to worry after Castiel turned his eyes away and his shoulders slumped which generally never happened when they talked. “Well, there’s not much for me to say because she didn’t give details. What I do know is that she’s here for Christmas.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better how?” Castiel shook his head and suddenly glared at Dean as if the worst kind of pressure was clamping down on him. “How on earth am I supposed to feel about that? Relieved?”

The manner in which the response was given contained so much pain and Dean flinched because rarely did his friend ever use such a harsh tone when they confided in each other. It was like a wrecking ball swinging down onto him and cracking the bond between them with a severity that left him speechless for a few seconds. And it was only after recalling that the topic was never easy to entertain that he felt the need to continue, especially when he decided that nothing wrong was done on his part.

“Cas, don’t hate me for something I’m no part of. Except that I thought you should know.”

“Why?” Those blue orbs darkened like a storm was raging inside of the older man’s mind and the appearance of such a change was terrifying. “My day has already been exhausted with work and apart from work, I’ve been having quite a terrible time handling other personal issues. Not that I show it, god no.” Castiel rambled on and the evident collapse of his composure worried the younger man. “I never show it when I’m around you or your father. You most of all because your happiness is more important to me. But to mention such…painful news to me. You could have waited until tomorrow at least.”

Dean instantly felt so ashamed of himself, he was rendered speechless to a point where the view before him was sought out. He never really struggled with holding back his tears so easily, but in that moment there was something so damning about the shards of glass poking into his chest. He believed that the conversation could have waited, if not for his decision to jump right into it just because why? He couldn’t even determine why and so the only thing he could do was to turn away and stare out into the forest that appeared more haunted and colder and darker than before.

Did he wish to take back his words? No. There were things that needed to be said and things that could survive without coming out into the open. And no matter what tormented them over the years, they were always honest with each other. When Dean slipped up, which were too many times to mention, the older man pulled him up and didn’t spare on the discipline. So why was it any different now?

But Dean should have expected that kind of feedback from Castiel, because every single time someone brought up his daughter, the storm clouds rolled in and threatened to break the conversation.

“Now I wouldn’t sleep a wink,” Castiel sounded so upset and terribly bruised enough to unearth a sigh. He pinched his forehead, head bent and eyes squeezed shut. “This is just too much for me, I’m afraid.”

Dean sprang up from the bench and couldn’t quite dissipate his anger slowly curling up from the injustice of feeling like he wasn’t to be blamed for anything but was on the receiving end of so much unfairness. “Look, I’m sorry for telling you the truth out of the goodness of my damn heart and ruining your night. I’ll just…” he gestured at the house, “go in now. Good night.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel reached for his left hand immediately and squeezed. Green eyes widened from the gesture and after ceasing to depart, blue ones clouded with tears. “Dean, please. Don’t go. Don’t...” Castiel shook his head, lips bitten, “leave me. I’m sorry for being so harsh. It’s just that…”

Giving in to the terrible sight of his friend collapsing under immense mental strain, Dean returned to the seat. Although their hands still remained connected, the feeling was assuring to offer Castiel the support he needed in any way that he could. Dean wanted to understand everything; the sadness, the irritation, the terrible pain and he couldn’t selfishly place his own bruised ego over the wellbeing of his friend.

“The last time she was here, we had quite an argument,” Castiel confessed with lowered eyes as he tenderly held the older man’s fingers between his own warm ones. “Claire is of the impression that I’m the worst person in her life because she believes that I disowned her. When in so many ways, I wanted nothing but to keep her. I wanted us to be close but her last words expressed her complete disregard of me as her father. And since then, I’ve spent so much time trying to understand why my own child could see me in such a terrible way when I’ve done nothing. I’ve done…nothing…to her.” Castiel’s voice broke and his chest trembled.

Dean immediately felt like his entire world turned upside down because he couldn’t recall ever witnessing the other man reduced to tears. Castiel was always the ray of sunshine that stood boldly against all odds and defied his struggles. But now, he sat there crumbling and losing faith in his own self-worth and there was nothing worse than that. And after closing the distance between them, Dean collected the other man’s hands into his and squeezed.

“I know you haven’t done anything bad,” he said softly, detesting that his friend folded over and concealed his tears. “You couldn’t do anything to hurt anyone because you’re so kind and sweet and amazing. But that’s the way most teenagers are. They’re angry at the world when they can’t find the answers they want. And from what I know, and I’m guessing I know a little, she grew up with this…belief in her mind that you gave up on her. I mean, from what she’s told me, she thinks that you made the decision to give her away and no matter what Jody or Donna tells her, she doesn’t believe them. I’ve tried to defend you so many times when she talked about how you chose everything else over her. I’ve never stopped and I don’t think that you should give up hope that things will get better.”

“How, Dean?” Castiel’s voice was gravelly and he suddenly sobbed as those blue eyes focused on green ones and leaked so much tears. “How am I supposed to even believe that when I feel like she’s given up on me?”

“She hasn’t, Cas.”

“She told me that I’m…nothing to her. The last time we met,” Castiel looked at Dean and he revealed his wet cheeks and weakened countenance, “she was gracious enough to elaborate on her hatred.”

“How the hell could anyone hate you? You’re the most adorable angel ever. You’re like a walking, talking plushie.”

“Oh, Dean,” the older man melted, eyes filling with tears again and after his chest heaved uncontrollably from sobs, there was nothing he could do to conceal his sadness. “I feel so worthless and cold inside like nothing is there inside of me but a terrible and awful winter.”

“Come here,” Dean didn’t await a response but shifted closer, wrapped an arm around the other man and tugged him in. “Don’t feel like that. If there’s one person who thinks you’re worthy and warm inside, it’s me. And you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened between you and Claire. The part that hurts the most is that Claire is in denial. I think she loves you and wants to give you a second chance but she’s scared.”

“Of what?” Castiel’s held Dean’s hands softly between his and didn’t let go and it was such a tender gesture that all the uneasiness from the conversation drifted away. With his cheek resting on the other man’s right shoulder, their shadows merged under the stars in the most comforting way ever.

“It’s generally what happens when love is in the picture,” Dean said, accepting the need to deliver as much comfort as possible. “Most people get too scared to admit the truth because they’re afraid of what they’re feeling. They feel like admitting to loving someone will be like admitting that you’re an alien or something. And the saddest part is, acceptance is comforting. Regret isn’t.”

Regret never could be a ray of sunshine because it always felt like a thousand needles poking into his chest after attempting something he shouldn’t have done. Dean was so full of regret during his teenage years that many of the risks taken were things that he wished never to experience again. But the feelings, the thrills, the lessons learned were all necessary and added to his character even after all these years. 

“You’re so wise,” Castiel wound his arm around Dean’s waist and nestled his head into the crook of the younger man’s right shoulder. Like old times, just the two of them; a young man eager to be mentored and the definition of a perfect gentleman who provided an endless amount of affection and honesty.

“I wonder what Jo thinks of me,” Dean asked suddenly after reaching into the night and tugging at things that could never settle. He blinked slowly and gazed at the lights in the windows of Castiel’s estate. “I was so young and stupid back then, you know?”

“You’re referring to using her to get over Lisa? I wouldn’t call that stupid. It’s just a coping mechanism and although it was a bit disappointing, you learned from the experience. Someone else’s love shouldn’t be abused in a way to satisfy your pain.”

“Because that’s trauma,” Dean said softly, realizing that the most selfish detail about his relationship with Ellen’s daughter was being quite aware that he didn’t want anything permanent with her, but still trying to provide so much even though. The love, the same kind of generosity and believing that a chance taken was better than not knowing at all.

Castiel sighed and rolled his head back a little to study the sky above them. “Exactly. But she seems fine now. Quite beautiful if I might admit that. Can you imagine that Ellen joked about making a match between us?”

Instantly, Dean’s heart squeezed from the suggestion and every single step taken down memory lane was suddenly replaced with a daunting feeling. “No way. You and Jo? You just can’t be with your best friend’s ex-girlfriend. That’s like breaking a code of conduct, man.”

Castiel actually laughed, a sound that was soothing to his friend’s ears after the abundance of tears. “Oh, so there is a book of rules now?”

“Damn right, there is.” Gradually though, Dean removed his fingers from Castiel’s hair and separated the two of them. And when he did, the other man’s immediate response was to consider him with nothing but a worried look.

“Did I say something wrong?” Castiel asked in his gravelly tone. “Forgive me if I overstepped by speaking about Jo.”

“No, it’s not that,” Dean’s legs acted on their own and he found himself standing up because a kind of tiredness was affecting him in more ways than one. “You know, it’s getting late and I need to do a bit of reading before bed because I have a class tomorrow early. So…”

When in truth, the exhausting feeling of believing that he acted wrong by approaching the topic before, then deciding that it was absolutely necessary, then witnessing so much sadness and tears; all of those were too much emotions to digest quickly. He couldn’t pack those away so fast but needed to return to a quiet place to recharge and it was one of the disadvantages of being an introvert; always drained from an overexertion of moods during a social meeting.

“Right, well,” Castiel rose up and nodded, “thank you so much for accommodating me and my woes. I don’t know what I’d do without you because you comfort me when I most need it.”

“Anytime, so…” Dean chuckled but couldn’t shake the way his heart sunk lower and lower as if a piece of him was missing all of a sudden from them parting ways, “good night and I hope you sleep well.”

“Good night…” Castiel frowned when the other man waved and walked off without sparing another second. “Sweet dreams!”

After returning to the house and tucking John under a blanket as the game blared on the television, Dean skipped up the steps and plopped onto his bed. But he only remained there for a few seconds before springing up and rushing to the window. Parting the blue blinds, his eyes trailed the path between the Winchester’s house and the Novak estate and guiltily, he sought out a moving figure.

Dean smiled because he wasn’t even conscious of doing the exact thing every single night; pinpointing his friend along the half a mile path and watching his slow but swift movement as he disappeared. Then after the night enveloped Castiel, he pressed his cheek on the glass and sighed, because the weight on his chest wasn’t present anymore. But all of it was replaced with a sense of warmth that suggested exactly what their friendship truly brought to his life. And he wouldn’t ever regret any of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Excerpt:**

_Okay my adorable bitches,” Charlie suddenly felt excited by the promise of fate, “these are the signs to tell if a guy is into you. But this might just apply to me,” she added for extra comfort, “so I’ll read them anyway and you two can tell me if they’re accurate.”_

_“Cool,” Dean shrugged and eyed Castiel with narrowed eyes, almost teasing him for a reaction. “I’m ready to be honest as always.”_

_“Oh really? I can't wait to listen to your opinions on the topic. Go on, Charlie,” the older man rose up and flattened his back upon the wall, arms folded and appearing rather cool as a cucumber. “Should be an entertaining read.”_

_“Might be an eye-opener too,” the young lady shrugged then cleared her throat._

* * *

Winter was coming but holding back her flakes whilst the rest of Littleton held their breaths and amidst the bitter cold weather, something quite unbelievable was happening.

In the Winchester’s yard at the front of the large three level house with tall windows and bordering oak trees, two young people were spraying each other playfully with green hoses. Their laughter filled the air as one chased the other around the yard and carefully avoided tumbling into the stone fountain bubbling with water. And although Charlie became breathless from falling into the game as the prey, she still continued dashing through the brown picket fence and sneaking among the fruit trees bordering the Novak estate from the Winchester’s property.

“Dean, you’re going to catch a goddamn cold!” John bellowed from the backyard, where under the shed of the workshop, he worked tirelessly with Bobby by his side. “Get the damn car washed and go back inside!”

But because the fleeting feeling of adrenaline taking the reins washed him in a sense of happiness, Dean reveled in the high. He needed to, craved the distraction after three long days of suffering through recap classes online where lecturers were painfully boring and his bedroom became smaller and smaller.

Whilst he was preoccupied and hostage to his thoughts, Charlie snatched the hose and sprayed Dean’s face. And instantly he was grabbing for the nozzle to direct the water onto her pink parka but failing miserably because she was swift.

Charlie’s energetic character never dulled and she was so similar to Castiel in that respect that when Dean recognized the mutual trait, he smiled. He couldn’t wait until they were familiar with each other because then connecting two special people in his life would possibly prove to be the best friendship triangle possible.

After they continued washing their rides; the Impala and Harley, their conversation fell into a steady rhythm.

Charlie expressed her excitement about the upcoming Christmas party for the orphanage as well as distributing the hampers to the less fortunate households. And because Ellen asked for his assistance earlier, Dean readily supplied to his friend that one of his father’s vans at the back of the yard would serve as the delivery vehicle.

“Hey, you okay?” Charlie studied his face and frowned. Collecting the red cloth into a ball, she squeezed the water from the fabric and stopped working on the Harley. “You look like you’re coming down with something. Maybe your dad’s right. You should head inside before you catch a cold or something.”

“Nah, it’s not that,” Dean ignored the scrutiny from his friend and continued shining the Impala that was already gleaming. “I’m actually physically and mentally drained because of exams and studying and long classes.”

“Yeah well you have to take it easy, you know?” Charlie collected the hose and turned the spray on. She directed the flow of water onto the front wheel. “How long more do you have?”

“This is pretty much the final year. I’d say up to May I’m going to be done and ready to finally decide what I want to do with my life. You know what’s funny?” Dean dusted a leaf away from the hood of the car. “Loads of people can literally map out the next five years of their life. They can see things happening for them based on their hopes and dreams but for me…” he sighed and applied some more detailing liquid onto the cloth, “I can’t see past my damn nose.”

“I know what you mean. All I see for myself is living out my twenties in the orphanage teaching and looking after the kids. But you’re coming out with a degree, right?” she seemed hopeful. “Things are going to start looking up for you which is freaking cool because you can do things with your life that you like.”

“I’m not just talking about job-wise,” Dean moved around to the back of the car and studied the lights carefully, “like, in general.”

“Like marriage and kids?”

“Yeah,” he made quite a mistake by allowing his eyes to wander to the Novak’s estate and when Charlie highlighted the reflexive scrutiny, she instantly settled on the substance of their discussion. “I’m not even sure that I’ll ever get married or have kids because I don’t think that I’m cut out for that.”

When he believed that by the age of twenty and five, he would be comfortably settled with a wife and children like his brother, Dean was still hovering around. He couldn't quite attach himself to anyone at that point and becoming satisfied with his own company was something quite exhilarating most days.

“Look, don’t say that,” Charlie’s chest hurt and she relaxed the wiping on her Harley to offer her friend a sympathetic look. “Everyone’s idea of happiness is never the same. For me it’s sticking to doing something for kids and watching them learn and that’s what makes me want to get up in the morning and it’s how I make a difference. But for you it could be something completely different like…” she gestured at him and blinked up at the sky, “teaching! I can totally see you becoming a teacher and telling your students about lore from around the world. And apart from that, love and everything else comes eventually. You can’t rush it. You’re the one who told me that you need to wait and be patient with love. Like you need to find someone who gets you and takes a while getting to know you.”

“Were I to fall in love, it would be a different thing,” Dean sighed and caressed the Impala’s back bumper slowly with a pensive look. “But I have never been in love; it’s not my way, or my nature and I don’t think I ever will.” Dean directed a small smile at his friend and shrugged. “You know how it goes, man. Priorities.”

“I guess we’re both late bloomers, aren’t we? Whilst the rest of young people are jumping in the sack with people, we’re sailing. But time will catch up and love will hit us so fast and when it does, you’ll deffo want someone to make out with you.”

“Come on,” Dean directed a comical smile her way and couldn’t even imagine desiring another human that much to crave for their intimacy which signaled to him that he probably became too accustomed to being alone all these years. “I’ve got my hands for that.”

“Gross,” she settled on a snort and directed her eyes to the black leather seat of her Harley. “But exactly why you need help. And when you think about that, do you think about anyone in particular?”

“You mean do I think about someone making out with me?” When Charlie nodded, he sighed, turned away and laughed. Dean polished a spot on the hood of the car and shrugged. “Not really except for celebrities…”

“What about Cas?”

The question came so suddenly, it hit him like a wrecking ball and although he would never admit it openly, a dull aching feeling settled inside of his chest. It was so new though, that feeling; almost as if the suggestion flipped on a light switch deep within his mind to illuminate a passageway he never knew existed.

However, Dean threw her an irritated look, with the sole purpose of concealing his conflicting thoughts. “Not you too. It’s becoming like a culture around here.”

"He's not that bad, you know?" Charlie made every attempt to avoid eye contact whilst she continued polishing up her bike. "I mean, in all fairness, sure he's a dude. But he's not just any dude. He's your _best_ friend and that counts. Wait, who is that?”

Both of them directed their gaze towards the winding path leading through the trees and immediately realized from the bulky figure that it was no other than Crowley. And as he walked, the cane clipped the ground in a steady swaying motion, providing enough clarity that he was enjoying a casual walk despite the cold weather.

“I can’t believe fate could work in such mysterious ways!” Charlie exclaimed, waving happily. “I was actually going to stop by the church to talk to him about the party. Can you freaking believe it?” she stared at Dean incredulously. “God does answer prayers.”

Despite his guilty plan to match make his friend with the dashing, and single British Deacon, Dean remained silent and observant of the scene unfolding. Something was always off about Crowley, whether it was his severe sophisticated appearance or his rather mysterious persona; Dean could not highlight the distinct meaning of the older man's aura. But what he could estimate was that Charlie took a liking to the man. She latched onto him quite willingly and provided enough clarification that the bond was promising.

“I find it rather delightful that the venue will be the presbytery this year. Just enough space to accommodate the little ones. And there is a decorating committee?” Crowley asked in earnest, all eyes on Dean though, despite the discussion only emanating from himself and the young woman.

“Yes! We actually have ten kids who came together because of their passion for arts and craft,” Charlie lapsed on shining her bike so Dean took over willingly and equipped with a smile. “They do all the decorating when we have parties and visitors coming in. And the food. I was thinking that we could try to get the Bible Group involved because they asked earlier in the year.”

Whilst the two of them rambled on about the plans, Dean returned to his own mind palace where matchmaking was the main intent. People, as complicated as they seemed were all desperate to fall in love with the right person. If he possessed the intuition to highlight such pairs, then obviously it was only fair to proceed with playing the role of _Cupid_ as Castiel oftentimes remarked.

“Earth to Dean!” Charlie suddenly tugged him into reality again. “He’s been like that all morning. _So_ spaced out.”

“I was complimenting your car,” Crowley said with a wide smile, leaning onto his cane. “I’ve always liked it. Your father used to drive to and from school back in the good old days. Maybe you can take me for a spin sometime.”

Dean shrugged and continued wiping the Harley. “Why not? I’ll give you a lift back to the church if you’d like.”

“That would be splendid. But just as soon as I’ve spoken to your father about a certain matter,” Crowley nodded, lent his arm to Charlie and smiled. “Would you accompany me? The matter I have to discuss with John is about doing a bit of plumbing at the presbytery before the Christmas party in a few weeks’ time.”

Charlie, beaming, took the older man’s arm and puffed out her chest. “It would be my pleasure. Shine her up good for me,” she teased Dean after walking off a few steps. “And don’t miss any spots.”

When he completely polished the Harley until it was gleaming like Baby, Dean bundled himself up into a thick blue wool jacket and he perched on the bench overlooking the yard. The fountain sculpted into a beautiful stone basin wide enough as five feet and bearing an upturned model of a basin where water tumbled from continuously; it was his mother’s pride and joy from the installation to the many evenings she spent near it. And whilst he studied the sparkling water that would soon cease because of an abundance of snow, Dean remembered Mary’s laugh.

The light in her eyes never used to dull, even on occasions when she was evidently troubled about things that her young sons would never understand. When she died, she passed so silently in a space of time which felt like a few seconds to Dean but a lifetime to Sam who was only two at the time but could always remember certain things about her. He could never speak openly about Mary without being driven to tears, and it was the only subject which was sore enough to never bring up too suddenly unless they were all reliving the good times.

Maybe he was too tired and blamed the lack of sleep on his wandering thoughts, but the memories weren’t so bad; of chocolate chip pancakes, warm cups of cocoa and curled into Mary’s waist like a comma.

“Crawled out from under a rock, have you?” Castiel’s breathless voice suddenly startled Dean enough to steal his breath away. “Here you are,” the older man came to stand in front of him and gestured with both hands, “in all your glory looking quite well indeed as opposed to your lamentations on being entirely too frustrated to join us for dinner last night!”

Always the only one in the family to make the grandest entrances that oftentimes brought Dean so close to a mini heart attack. He tried to catch his breath, and although the weather was frigid, the warmth in his heart grew from the fondness experienced from being in close proximity to the older man.

“Leave it to you to ramble on,” Dean sighed and glanced at the mountains behind the house because such energy reflecting on the other man’s handsome face was a little too much to entertain. It was like witnessing a bubbling fountain of Skittles with all that sugar and no promise of ever delivering anything but tremendous exertion. “Like I’ve been telling people and you know all too well, studying’s got me busy. What’s up with you?”

“I just noticed your new friend accompanying Crowley arm in arm. I hope that you have played no role in making this part of your matchmaking schemes.”

“I can’t help it, okay?” Dean sighed because the constant bicker on the topic was too humorous to avoid. “It’s fun.”

“I warned you!”

“Have I ever failed at what I do?” he offered a smile whilst blue eyes widened and never diverted as always. “Dude, I should get paid to do this. I could make some good money.”

“Dean, you are not Cupid!” Castiel worked himself up into a worried state that caused his cheeks to color. “Sure, you are quite an angel. Beautiful and lovely in every sense of the word. But that is…hardly the point!”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” In fact, the older man never did. He was always radiant and the owner of quite attractive features which Dean acknowledged but never examined in depth. “Don’t harass me. I’m too tired to come up with my usual retorts."

The silence that settled between them became quite suffocating after a full minute, until they both shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Whilst Dean studied his fingertips raw from being soaked by water, he wondered why they were so stagnant suddenly, when on any prior occasion, conversation flowed freely.

“Did I do something to upset you?” this time Castiel’s tone was softer and immediately he was examined with a frown. “The last time we spoke, you…pulled away from me and left abruptly and then for three days now, you’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Not even a phone call to check up on me. I can’t help but feel like I’ve said something out of line or—”

“Nah, the only thing that upsets me about you is that you’re shorter than me by two inches,” Dean snorted and could literally feel the warm fuzziness inside of his chest that only stirred less than an hour ago, waking up again. “And I always feel like I’m the older one.”

“Damn you,” Castiel chuckled and nudged the younger man’s shoulder playfully. “I can’t help it if I’m a shorter package. And I’m not referring to my…” he cleared his throat, cheeks dusted pink and actually seemed embarrassed by the slip of the tongue. “I’m merely referring to the top of my head to the soles of my feet.”

“You’re an ass,” Dean adored his best friend, his humor and abundance of happiness were always refreshing qualities. “Leave it to you to make any damn conversation seem so funny and awkward at the same time.”

Castiel pulled his coat together and sat up as straight as a poker, “mind you, I do have quite an attractive rear. What do you think?”

Dean, smiling and trying to ignore the depth of their conversation leant back a little and checked out the other man. He snorted after his neck grew warmer from the intrusion. “Really? I don’t see anything. Are you sure it’s there? Maybe you’ve lost it on your way over.”

“You know I couldn’t care less about your prolonged teasing. But I do look forward to it! I enjoy it quite immensely. I missed you, dearest Dean,” Castiel reached out and ruffled the younger man’s hair, a gesture that was too fond and one that he grew accustomed to over the years. “I always miss you when a day goes by and we have not the fortune of meeting.”

The two of them sat together in silence for a while, simply gazing out at the yard and the mountains misted in the distance. After all, little lapses in their conversation were expected but in order to continue the stream of words, they usually spared any random thoughts. This time though, the evident response was hanging in the air without being said and the weight pressed down on the air between them.

“Missed you too, Cas,” Dean said softly, because a reply was necessary and he felt like stating the obvious was something that Castiel longed for. “Although I got to admit that I didn’t miss seeing that damn trench coat hanging by the door.”

“How dare you insult my most prized article of clothing? Hmm?” the older man turned a dramatic stunned expression and received nothing but the shake of a head and a small smile. “If memory serves me right, there were many times when this very same trench coat was used to wrap you up when you were too cold. Do you recall the walks home from school during rainy days?”

He remembered all too well, willingly accepting the comfort of the khaki trench coat and becoming embraced by the feel of warmth, like soft wings wrapping around him. Not forgetting the scent of the older man’s cologne intermingled with fresh detergent; things that he used to take for granted but now…in more ways than one, he missed those fond childhood memories because they were always glued to each other. They were so inseparable and there wasn’t an afternoon spent at home after school that was lacking Castiel’s company.

Now, there were times when Dean merely welcomed the presence of the older man like any other mundane occurrence. He was growing accustomed to the usual round of activities; waking up, consuming a light breakfast, classes at nine, lunch at midday, Castiel sparing a walk over under his window to chat with John, then the resumption of classes again. Dinnertime was expected with their company in the window seat, then he would walk the older man outside and the evening ended. And all of those things were so mundane that he longed for something exciting to happen, for something to come along and brush him off his feet like Dorothy spiraling away from Kansas.

“I remember those days. Still don’t like it though.”

“I’ll leave it in my will for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Dean said softly and chuckled because he really wouldn’t mind accepting the trench coat at all but could never digest the actuality of losing his best friend for good.

Their usual banter brought back the kind of playfulness he thoroughly enjoyed because over the years, Castiel never failed at delivering a sense of happiness. It was warming and beautiful and the best companionship anyone could ask for. Lacking no surprises except for the gifts delivered to each other during Christmas and birthdays, and small thrills of listening to the newest gossip. The two of them were always on common grounds despite their age differences, almost as if the gap didn't ever matter.

“Have you seen Jo as yet?” Castiel bent low enough to pluck a blade of grass from beside the younger man’s black boots.

“You keep bringing her up but I’m beginning to think that she’s a figment of your imagination.” When the older man’s tilted head and narrowed eyes followed, Dean laughed because the humor was euphoric. “Oh, come on. Don’t you find it strange that I haven’t seen her as yet?”

“As I ponder on it, I’m beginning to believe that it isn’t strange at all. Perhaps Ellen wishes to keep you two separated for obvious reasons.”

Dean sighed because the history between himself and the younger Harvelle would have soured and then died down overtime. "It was more than five years ago, Cas.”

“Indeed, but bruises are bruises. You may heal from a heartbreak but you can also suffer from seeing the person again. Maybe Jo isn’t ready as yet to confront you because of the past and she’s trying to sort out a few hiccups with her finances. Only this morning, I ran into her at the bakery and I was expressing my sentiments in her current affairs.”

“Which you keep bringing up but never telling me what the hell’s going on,” Dean’s irritation showed again because he detested being left in the dark to wander around.

“You must remember that client confidentiality still exists, regardless if you are the most trusted person in my life. She presented me with a cupcake, for your information,” Castiel’s fondness on the topic showed. "A lovely pink one decorated with blue sugar."

Dean, of course, was too impressed by the gesture but he couldn’t admit that the new piece of information bruised him. “Now you've got me wondering if something's happening between you two, man. And I warned you that my ex is off limits.”

“I can’t help it if I’m _this_ attractive,” Castiel shrugged and flicked the blade of grass over his thumb smiling. “Soon enough I will catch the eye of someone who could be interested in my peculiar character. And when that time comes, am I wrong to turn down their affections?”

Dean’s response was to turn his eyes to the workshop where Charlie was returning with Crowley in tow. And maybe, his diverted attention was needed because he couldn’t entertain his friend’s question, could he? How on earth would he answer truthfully whilst concealing his innermost thoughts on the matter?

Jo couldn’t be making advances on Castiel and if she was then Dean would most certainly have to address the discomfort later. But for now, maybe he needed to relax the paranoia and focus on maintaining the relationships that life presented to him.

“Oh my god, is this _him_?” Charlie instantly clamped her palms onto both cheeks and gasped after arriving in all her pink glory. “Are you _the_ Castiel that I’ve heard so much about?”

“I am,” the older man stood up and offered a hand, smiling bashfully, “only good things I hope?”

Immediately, she threw her arms around him and he squeaked from the tight hug, sending Dean a stare that was quite suggestive of him never being prepared for the intrusion. “I’ve been dying to meet you! Dean’s told me about you but I couldn’t wait to see if you’re really dreamy in person. And you totally are.”

“He told you that I’m dreamy?” Castiel’s blue eyes turned to his younger companion and he narrowed them, still smiling. “Well, this is a first..”

“I didn’t but knock yourself out,” Dean rose up and fished the car key out of his jeans then he turned to Crowley who was admiring the scene unfolding with immense pleasure. “You ready to head home, padre?”

Castiel was so observant, his scrutiny rested on the key then the Deacon then into Dean’s green eyes and maybe Charlie alone caught the change on his countenance because she was still drinking in the older man’s attractive features. “Are you really going to drive him back to the church? I thought he savored long walks.”

Because he could easily read his best friend’s tone, Dean caught the sarcasm although Charlie and Crowley missed it. “Yeah, well the weather is getting colder. I don’t mind.”

“Well then, I’ll accompany you,” Castiel said in a haste, allowing their gaze to deepen and trying to implore reason but receiving a confused look from Dean “I don’t think that I’ve ever been in the Impala whilst you were driving. Funny, isn’t it?” this he directed at Charlie who was still mesmerized by him. “Never has he ever entertained the idea but there is a first for everything. Don’t mind if I do.” Then with a spring in his step, he drifted towards the car.

Dean stared, blinked in astonishment and honestly wondered what on earth occurred in the span of a minute right before his eyes. But he couldn’t really dissect the situation because to question his best friend’s strange behavior in front of the two other pairs of eyes would perhaps raise enough suspicion.

So smiling at Crowley, he then turned to Charlie and raised his eyebrows quickly. “You want to come along for the ride since it’s obviously a party?”

“Nah, I’ll just stay here and finish off the Harley in the meantime. Enjoy the return trip,” the last bit she tiptoed and whispered into his ear gleefully.

“Huh?” Dean was already confused enough but Charlie picked up the sponge, dipped it into the bucket of water and resumed working on her bike.

If he could truthfully describe the ride to the church, he would use one word; awkward.

Not only did Castiel claim and own the term shotgun, but he once again could not respect Dean’s personal space. He crowded the front seat in a way that proved to Dean why cars were made with the distinct separation in between. And with Crowley in the backseat, he continued to be as bothersome as a petulant child, blocking all attempts of conversation between the Deacon and Dean and highly criticizing the delivery of last Sunday’s Homily.

Crowley on the other hand, welcomed the banter for a full minute and then sat in silence in the backseat, obviously uncomfortable because of the blatant attacks on his character.

Dull. Lacking enthusiasm. Bad choice of wearing black so close to the Christmas season. The church was in dire need of cleaning. The light on the altar was in need of fixing. The altar boys needed to look more alive. Then the rusty faucets and the creaky floorboards by the Holy Water basin.

“All matters I am well aware of and will work towards correcting,” Crowley returned with a smile. “Is there anything else that you wish to add?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Castiel turned around in the seat and irritated Dean’s nerves more than before. “Why on earth would you change the Bible Club meetings to Friday evenings? Do you honestly believe that we older folk have nothing to do with our lives on a Friday night?”

“How do you sign up for the Bible Club?” Dean’s nervous chuckle immediately pulled blue eyes onto his face. “I remember dad made me join the choir when I was a kid. I was the only dude back then in the lineup. And I’ve got to say, Sister Esther was…” when he glanced at Castiel and noticed the deepened scowl, Dean’s words faltered and so did his smile.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the choir, Dean. Maybe you should join again,” Crowley said lightly, unfazed by the constant attack on his character and seeming a little humored. “We do need more participants.”

“He will do no such thing,” Castiel folded his arms and glared at the road ahead, whilst uncomfortably maintaining just five inches of space between him and the driver who was completely aggravated at that point. “Dean has plenty of studies to focus on and when he’s not studying, he reads excessively. Apart from that, he should not waste his time in the company of a group of old ladies who cannot tune themselves after ten years. Nor should he become their guilty distraction.”

Reaching for Castiel’s left thigh without even realizing what he was doing, Dean squeezed and instantly unearthed a squeak that brought on silence afterwards. He couldn’t believe that the decision to attempt such a thing was so easy to make. But he did it nevertheless and felt a light flutter inside of his chest like little butterflies awakening. And lowered blue eyes considered the bold gesture, then their brief gaze delivered a warning that was too severe to ignore.

After Crowley was let off in front of the church, Castiel’s scowl latched onto the other man until the Impala nosed its way around a corner. His dissatisfaction was so evident by then, that Dean took his precious time before approaching the topic because he was certain of one thing; rarely did Castiel express such discontent in terms of someone else. And when he did, his reasons were absolutely substantial and valid.

Dean remembered the one instance when his best friend lamented on the likes of a beggar loitering on Main Street a couple years ago. He couldn’t quite understand why the stranger ruffled Castiel’s feathers so much to a point where he reported the matter to the police. But when Jody did a background check on the man, the whole town soon discovered that the beggar was a pedophile who migrated from Canada and was hiding from the police.

“You mind telling me what happened just now?” he crawled the Impala down Main Street and because it was almost four, the shops were closing with minimal foot and vehicular traffic. And completely disregarding Dean's rule of the driver picking the music, something which the older man was never privy to because of his absence from riding in the car, the soft sounds of Celine Dion's _Love You More_ filled the space. "Really, Cas?" he studied blue eyes that fluttered close as a soft sigh escaped parted lips. "When Sam left here, Celine went with him."

“He rubs me the wrong way, Dean.” Castiel eyed the red light as the car stopped and he gazed at it.

Dean however, did not miss that and wondered why a traffic light would be so deserving of such a dazed look. “Never thought you two were _that_ intimate, but okay.”

"I'll be waiting for you, here inside my heart, I’m the one who wants to love you more. You will see I can give you everything you need, let me be the one to love you more," Castiel sang under Celine Dion's chorus, and his decision to suddenly leap into such a delivery stunned Dean to a point where the light changed to green and he suddenly slammed down on the accelerator.

The older man chuckled, arms folded and he appeared so contented as if the music was a soothing balm. "You are a terrible driver."

"I'm not! You're the one trying to serenade me with a damn song," Dean protested, feeling his neck grow warmer from the actuality of listening to his friend's beautiful voice. Many times he would have been privy to the low hums of the hymns in church, but never to such an extent that every single word seemed to resonate with the older man.

"I'm happy to know that I can weaken your knees with my singing. To continue our conversation on Crowley, I can’t exactly elaborate on my suspicions but I don’t trust him at all. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing and I just know that his true colors will be revealed soon enough.”

Dean stared at Castiel in disbelief because he couldn’t understand where all of those remarks were originating from. “Come on, dude. He’s the freaking Priest…Deacon, whatever! A man of the cloth! What kind of suspicions could you even get from him? He’s stealing wine from the church? He’s…taking all the collection and pimping his _humble abode_?”

“As a matter of fact, I _do_ wonder about those things from time to time and you know what? It doesn’t make me feel terrible about it,” Castiel’s manner of sitting reflected someone of exceptional upbringing because his back always remained as stiff as poker.

“God’s listening, man. I wouldn’t go there if I was you.” When his friend sighed in return, Dean shook his head and eased the Impala down the road. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I give people the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty. So like you said, when Crowley _does_ reveal his true colors, then I’ll jump on board with you.”

“I thought you took my side on things.”

“I do,” Dean’s chest pained when Castiel’s tone softened and he wondered if there was so much more the older man was not revealing to him. “I always do, no questions asked. And I’m not saying that I’m not siding with you but I need a little more. You’re the one who always keep telling me that evidence is essential before judgment. I’m too young to hate a religious dude, Cas.”

“So, you’re saying that I’m _old_ now.”

Dean sighed and turned the car up the trail heading through the forest. “No, Cas. I’d never say that about you. Stop getting so defensive. It’s cute but it’s just going to lead to us bickering at each other and right now, I don’t want that. I don't like when we get all prickly, you know? I like to level things."

“Look at us behaving like a married couple,” Castiel chuckled and suddenly reached for Dean’s phone resting behind the steering wheel. "It comes so naturally, hmm?"

“Dude, what the hell.” Trying to grab his mobile from his best friend’s grasp almost swerved them off the road and surrendering to the intrusion, Dean sucked up his discontent. “Don’t touch my stuff, man.”

“What’s the password?”

“Like I’d tell you that.”

“Dean, give it to me.”

“Buy me a drink first, dammit.” He could feel his cheeks grow warmer which seemed to be quite a constant reaction recently. “And no. I’m not ever going to give you my password.”

“Oh. Never mind.” Castiel sighed, eyes lowered and then he lifted the phone to face them both. “The camera works despite your distrust in me. _Me._ Your soul mate. The Yin to your Yang.”

When Dean looked over, he realized that the screen captured their contrasting expressions in the frame; an obviously and always smiling Castiel and his quite puzzled face. And in that moment, somehow it was oh so desirous for the older man to invade his personal space and deliver nothing but an overwhelming scent of apples, fresh linen and oranges. He kept pondering on the terms used; soul mate? Obviously his leg was being pulled but the two words settled inside of his chest like a fire and burned despite his criticism on the depth of it.

Castiel continued to press into his right arm, their thighs touching, and Dean sighed when the Winchester house came into view. He felt some kind of relief knowing not why the desperate need to drift apart for the older man was longed for but understanding that perhaps he wasn’t too fond of affections. Dean was never the touchy type of character who craved hugs like Castiel and maybe that’s why the uncomfortable feeling of them being so close was prickling his consciousness.

“Ha!” the shutter sound filled the car in several clicks. “Finally got it. I really suck at taking photos because it’s blurry. Maybe you should have a go at it.”

“Can I park first?” Dean’s voice was uneven and he cleared his throat as Castiel kept leaning in closer and closer, completely disregarding that respect deserved to the driver. “Why do you even need a photo anyway? I look crappy.”

“You’ll always be handsome to me. Here,” the older man handed over the camera after the Impala rested in the shade of the large maple tree.

Their fingers brushed because it wasn’t possible to avoid that whilst passing over the phone. Castiel’s hands were always softer and too perfect upon careful examination by curious green eyes. And trying to steady the camera in his left hand and forcing out a smile, Dean didn’t realize where his other hand rested until the photo was taken and he happened to experience a softer warmth generated from the older man's left thigh.

Maybe it was the difference of knowing and not knowing, of reflexively acting a certain way and then never believing that he ever craved that kind of nearness from someone else. Because sure, he wasn’t exactly the affectionate type but neither was he a stone that didn’t require some kind of human contact.

When their fingers slowly entwined and then the feeling of how perfectly their hands fitted together dawned upon him, Dean glanced down to assess what he didn’t realize had happened so naturally. And after knowing for a fact that this was the second time the gesture simply occurred without feeling any discomfort on his part, he allowed it because there was nothing else to do. Pulling away would seem so harsh and he didn’t want to do such a thing.

Castiel was first and foremost his best friend, the man he trusted more than his father or brother with anything personal, the one person who understood him beyond expectations. No one else could hold his hand with such ease, especially another man and for such a prolonged period. It was like knowing deep down inside that this was what a profound bond felt like; sincere and warm and maybe a lot like sitting in the car whilst the rain beat down on the roof in a slow and soothing rhythm.

It was like coming home, slipping off his boots and warming his feet by the fire or digging into a warm bowl of soup during winter. Everything about that little secretive moment felt so honestly real and beautiful to Dean that he couldn’t deprive himself of it. He _wanted_ it, wanted to be touched and maybe the truth frightened him enough to stiffen but he didn't pull away. In fact, he folded his own fingers over his friend's own and studied the connection with that same kind of fire burning inside of his body.

“Your hand is cold,” Castiel said softly after sometime passed by in a comfortable silence. “Why is your hand cold, Dean?” and folding both of his over the younger man’s fingers, he gingerly rubbed away the chill.

“I guess it’s because of playing with the water earlier,” Dean chuckled despite the warming feeling of having his hands massaged and knowing for a fact that two men didn't quite entertain such an intimate act so easily. “Man, Charlie did a number on me with that damn hose. Had to change off afterwards.”

“You must be careful, you know,” the worry in Castiel’s voice so close to his right ear sent a warm sliver through Dean’s chest. “I don’t want you falling sick. You're quite aware how I worry about you. And I…can’t help it.”

“I know, I know,” sighing, Dean reached for the key and pulled it out whilst smiling but yet he didn’t take away his hand that was still being tenderly touched. “Never thought I’d say this out loud, but you really live up to your nickname, sunshine. In more ways than one. I might not use that one as often as huggy bear but it’s still a good one.”

He didn’t need to elaborate and that was the amazing thing about Castiel; he always understood what was implied without an explanation. He could never become lost for words that came so naturally in the silence between them.

"I still need a nickname for you though. Maybe you may suggest one?" Blue eyes met green ones and the two of them gazed at each other for a full minute before the younger man blinked, swallowed and diverted his attention to the fountain in the front yard. "How about…darling?"

"Not going to happen. Nope. No way," Dean detached their hands, cleared his throat and pushed open the car door, then he stepped out.

Charlie provided enough distraction afterwards to dull the slight ache between them although Castiel smiled after the response. Her pink parka was thrown across the seat of her Harley to reveal a grey long-sleeved wool jacket. And because her disposition matched the older man, the two of them embarked on a humorous conversation centered on the photo taken prior.

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Charlie remarked after Castiel snatched the phone from Dean and produced the evidence. “You should frame it.”

The conversation continued until Dean couldn’t stomach the topic so he excused himself and escaped into the house. From there, because it was almost five o’clock, he stripped down and ducked into a hot shower. Trying to chase away the anxiety that the day produced thus far, he stayed in there for quite a long time. And whilst the spray of water cascaded upon his hair and washed away the suds from the Irish Spring body wash, he couldn’t prevent his mind from lingering on the feel of Castiel’s fingers fitting so neatly beside his own.

By the time Charlie found him again, he discovered that the older man left to return to dinner within the hour and so the two of them walked out side by side to her Harley.

“You know, your dad is like the coolest ever. You’re so lucky to have at least one parent,” she sighed and lowered those sparkling green eyes as they walked, “I literally have no family left. And I mean, no idea who my relatives are and where they are. But I do have people who care about me from the orphanage. The nuns aren’t so bad.”

“I care about you,” Dean said softly, tugging her into his arms as they stopped by the bike and lingered in the warm orange of the setting sun. “You’re like a sister to me now. And anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I just want a good life, Dean,” Charlie collected her helmet, and still leant into his embrace “You know? I want to feel like I mean something to someone without having to try so hard.”

“Yeah, well, us both.”

“You have Cas,” and tugging on his arm, she forced their eyes to meet as her emerald ones sparkled all of a sudden. “Dean, if you could just see what I see when I look at the two of you together. It’s so dreamy and perfect and when he talks about you, I can feel nothing but love. Do you know what he told me when you went back into the house? He said that his life would be incomplete without you. If someone said that about me, I would totally turn jelly.”

“Charlie, there’s nothing there,” Dean said softly, frowning despite the honesty on her countenance to prove otherwise. "You're just reading too much into it."

“Stay for dinner!” John suddenly called from the front porch, waving at the two of them. “Where is your manners, Dean? You can’t let a young lady ride through the forest in the dark. By all means stay the night.”

The two of them turned to assess each other’s thoughts and whilst Dean suddenly highlighted Charlie’s intent to torture him during dinner with Castiel around, he still longed for her company. So the two of them took the Harley around to the back of the house and secured it inside the workshop. Then after returning into the living room, from there, Dean took her upstairs and showed someone else his bedroom for the first time in years.

“Dude, you’re a complete neat freak!” she remarked after assessing the space. Charlie moved in a trancelike state to his bookcase that climbed four levels and covering the width of a one wall in the room. From there, she studied every volume and commented on his tastes.

“Classics are more my thing, I guess.”

“Really, Dean?” she narrowed her eyes and produced Castiel’s signature inside the flap of Middlemarch. “Don’t you find it romantic that the guy gives you books as gifts? He’s like the ideal crush.”

“Well, he uh,” Dean scratched the back of his neck and appeared bashful, “he kind of does this thing where he keeps lending me books and never takes them back. So, they’re not really mine. But I heard that he has a huge library.”

Charlie frowned and caressed the spine of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. “Wait, you’ve never seen it? Dean,” their eyes connected and she instantly noticed the silent confession, “you’re kidding me! You’ve never been to his house?”

“Once when I was a kid,” he shrugged and sunk onto the window seat where the view of the front yard and beyond was always so breathtaking. “It’s just that he’s been coming over here constantly so there’s no need to visit him. And it’s not like I have any reason to. The dude practically lives here. Come take a look at this.” He gestured for her to join him at the window where the soft seat was always welcoming.

The night settled on the moor and offered nothing but a thick blanket of darkness except for the looming Novak estate illuminated in lights dotting the gardens and front lawns. In a few of the windows, lights were on and standing on the front porch, under the warm yellow glow, two men were animatedly having a conversation.

“Is _everything_ about the guy so dreamy?” Charlie stared at the spectacular view. “He basically lives in a fortress.”

“The Novaks are filthy rich. Cas is a financial consultant and accountant and his brother is an investor in real estate and businesses. I think their father pretty much kicked off the whole business gene because their mom as far as my dad’s told me was a terrifying housewife.”

“Yikes,” Charlie settled on the seat next to Dean and studied his face. “I bet he had his own struggles.”

Dean sighed and ran his finger over the sill of the window. “Cas never talks about it. He’s not really soft to be honest. I think he’s the strongest dude I’ve ever known apart from my dad. But he chooses when to show me his weaknesses and when not to.”

She offered a sympathetic look and lightly touched his arm. “Think of it this way. He probably doesn’t want to burden you with his problems.”

“But I’m his best friend,” Dean said frowning at her because it was always necessary to believe that he was worthy enough to deserve the truth from the people close to him. “Isn’t that beside the point?”

“I think that he does it because he cares about you. He knows you’re studying and trying hard to get good grades so he doesn’t distract you. Maybe one day he’ll start opening up.”

By the time the two of them went down for dinner, John was already seated at the table and perusing the newspapers. Looking up, he smiled at Charlie and engaged her in a conversation about what teaching at the orphanage was like. Dean on the other hand relaxed on the window seat and became lost in the White Mountains, New Hampshire’s beauty identified in the peaks darkened against the night sky.

“Castiel is late,” his father said, frowning from the table. “It’s almost six thirty and…” there was the sound of the doorbell and after no one made an attempt to answer, John stared at his son. “Well, let him in, will you?”

Lazily unfolding himself from the seat, Dean dragged his feet to the door and unlocked it, and there stood his best friend freshly changed over into a long-sleeved maroon shirt under his trench coat and black tailored pants. The disheveled hair remained though, and so did the huge blue eyes that latched onto green one and sparkled with mischief. And because the familiar look was suggestive of a budding conversation, Dean smiled in return and ushered the man in from the cold.

“Remarkable how as December comes, nature reveals her bitterness. Ah, Charlie!” Castiel immediately sought out the young woman, moved past Dean and went to the table. “Do you know,” he said in all smiles, sitting down next to her, “that they’re doing a screening of Bronte’s Wuthering Heights at the cinema next week?”

“Good night to you too,” Dean mumbled, secured the latch on the door and joined them. “Should have just let you stand out there.” He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt and sighed, even though the older man offered him a warm smile.

“We should all go!” Charlie clapped her hands in glee and stared across the table. “Dean, what do you think? It’s amazeballs, and it’s like a friends date.”

“Kind of swamped with catching up on some material for exams,” he noted the crestfallen look from her and sighed. “But depending on the time, I’ll try my best to be there.”

“You ought to try,” Castiel cupped his cheek upon his palm and smiled as John admired the conversation in silence. “Because you’ll be my chauffeur.”

“I’d make you walk there,” Dean collected the napkin and fixed it upon his lap neatly. “Especially how you came bursting through the damn door without any manners.”

“You know, he’s just upset that I find your face more appealing than his,” Castiel confided in Charlie whilst John chuckled and sipped some water from a tall glass. “After all, you do possess the same green eyes as he does. One might ascertain that his sour mood could make me replace him with you.”

“The moment you try to replace me, you’ll start getting grey,” Dean said proudly, “because I’m your elixir for staying young and you know it. So choose wisely, sunshine."

John laughed loudly and passed around the dishes, urging them all to eat as Castiel seemed so impressed by the statement that he couldn’t provide a reply. Charlie was entirely bewildered by the affectionate nickname and after latching onto it, she could only gaze between the pair for a prolonged period.

After the table was cleared away and no other than Bobby joined them to watch the game on television, John brought out a six pack and sat next to his friend on the couch. Castiel, latching onto the conversation that unfolded about sports, strategically perched himself on the arm of another chair. From there, he constantly glanced at Charlie and Dean by the window seat that he, for years, shared with the younger man, confiding in each other’s company. And although his countenance reflected nothing of feeling wounded by being replaced, Castiel’s silence provided enough clarity.

Very soon, Dean literally felt the separation tremendously by the way his heart stung every time those mellow blue eyes latched onto him. It was torture, to realize that he was considerably affected by the distance and longed inside to remedy the problem. But he couldn’t call Castiel over because he really and truly was the topic of conversation and Charlie could not contain herself.

“Why wouldn’t you look? It’s so obvious,” she teased him with a nudge, her flaming hair catching the last bit of sunlight reaching through the window behind them. “Just lower your eyes and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not going to check out the dude’s crotch,” he whispered into her ear. “Let it go. And dammit, stop making it so obvious that we’re talking about him.” He eyed the Seventeen magazine on her lap as Castiel’s piercing gaze settled on their huddled forms. “Are you going to lend me that soon or do I have to wait a year?”

“I’ll lend you it as soon as you check out the package.”

“Jesus,” he folded his arms, swallowed and stared at the television for a prolonged period until Castiel shifted his position on the chair and then the inevitable happened.

Dean, as much as he was fighting to give into Charlie’s ridiculous demands, allowed his gaze to wander to where the older man was perched. In that moment, Castiel was dusting the right thigh of his black pants and because Dean couldn’t refrain from latching onto those perfect hands, his gaze rested on exactly what Charlie highlighted before.

The moment he detected that an unfamiliar warmth pooled inside his gut from discovering the truth, Dean flicked his eyes away from feeling entirely intrusive and ridiculous. And he cleared his throat, the sound immediately catching the older man’s attention who finally used it as a cue to rise up from where he was seated.

“Is that a copy of Seventeen?” Castiel boldly came towards them and sought out the beige wall directly next to Dean to lean against. The position was advantageous to present a view of the magazine. “This month’s copy?”

Charlie glanced up at the older man and swallowed hard as her friend seated in close proximity tensed up. “Yeah, the Swift drives Dean crazy.” When it was believed that she witnessed enough thus far to estimate the closeness between the two men, she was finally faced with the perfection in their characters and features that matched beautifully when positioned together.

“I’m quite aware,” Castiel chuckled as he ruffled Dean’s hair and inched close enough to minimize the distance between them. “From the very first album he was captivated. Since then he’s never been able to _Shake It Off_.”

No response was given and a pregnant pause followed that encompassed the flipping of pages and intense reading. Then after settling on a part of the magazine which provided a topic that froze over Dean’s insides, the air filled with the kind of tension that entertained three pairs of eyes sweeping the details.

“So, here’s an article that might be interesting,” Charlie provided with a mischievous smile because her intentions were clear and very supportive of the _culture_ which was becoming the norm around their small circle.

Castiel patted down his breast pocket and frowned though. “It appears as if I forgot my glasses. Can one of you read to me?”

Dean folded his arms and sighed because he understood his new friend’s intent even before she nudged his right shoulder. But curiosity peaked, he briefly brushed through the introduction of the article and stopped when Castiel’s hip pressed into his right arm a little more than before. Never could the older man respect personal space, the nearness was providing a kind of warmth that caused Dean to reminisce on their little encounter inside the Impala. And he hated that they couldn’t crack the window because three people in such close proximity were bound to radiate with heat.

“Okay my adorable bitches,” Charlie suddenly felt excited by the promise of fate, “these are the signs to tell if a guy is into you. But this might just apply to me,” she added for extra comfort, “so I’ll read them anyway and you two can tell me if they’re accurate.”

“Cool,” Dean shrugged and eyed Castiel with narrowed eyes, almost teasing him for a reaction. “I’m ready to be honest as always.”

“Oh really? I can't wait to listen to your opinions on the topic. Go on, Charlie,” the older man rose up and flattened his back upon the wall, arms folded and appearing rather cool as a cucumber. “Should be an entertaining read.”

“Might be an eye-opener too,” the young lady shrugged then cleared her throat. “Okay, so it says here that…and I’ll read now. Crushes go a long way, but most of us are dying to know if the one guy we’re attracted to is _that_ much into us. These signs might either prove that he’s smitten or be nothing more than an educational lesson for guys who are struggling to express their feelings. Numero uno.” She flattened the magazine with both palms and glanced at them. “Ready?”

“Out with it,” Castiel smiled at the television and Dean nodded because he couldn’t clear his throat again.

The sound might suggest that he was a deeply affected by something that wasn’t supposed to bother him at all. And why should it? Why should a simple topic obviously directed towards the fairer sex trouble him in any way?

“Proximity. If a guy finds you appealing, he finds ways to get close to you. His feelings force him to start gravitating towards you and distance becomes nothing but a figment of the imagination. Try to think of the times when you hang out. Does he get into your space without any reason to?”

Dean wanted to glare at Castiel but he couldn’t because the intent would be too obvious; personal space was always the issue. Over and over again, his best friend could not respect it because he was too much attached and comfortable with brushing their shoulders or holding hands as of recent. These were things that never affected Dean but to listen to the meaning between the lines in the article, a low flutter originated from inside his gut.

Charlie suddenly laughed and then after composing herself, she sighed. “Touch. Does he rest his hand on your back or squeeze your shoulders? If he does, then he’s trying to reassure you that he cares. And if he holds your hands without any reason to, then he’s definitely looking to see how you react. If you’re okay with it, most times guys entwine their fingers with yours and they wouldn’t let go until you do.”

By then, Castiel’s silence left the two of them to wonder whether he was still listening or not. But it was quite evident that his attention remained on the article because the television now turned off couldn’t serve as a distraction. He couldn’t be focusing on anything else apart from the words in the article.

By then, Dean’s mind was drifting towards the pile up of classes he needed to sit through the following day and trying to also focus on the words coming out of Charlie’s mouth. If he was in any way affected by the mention of hand holding, nothing showed on his countenance. In fact, hand holding wasn’t something that troubled him because he didn’t just hold anyone’s hand just like that, did he? Castiel wasn’t _anyone_ ; he was very special in ways no one could ever understand, and Dean didn’t even believe that he was able to grasp the power of their friendship as much as he should have.

“Body language,” Charlie continued in a soft tone. “If he leans in a lot it means he’s comfortable enough to do it, and he’s just trying to sniff you. Guys can’t hide their attraction that easily so if he’s giving you all these signs so far, you’re in for a surprise! Pay attention to the way his body reacts when you’re close to him. If you lean in, does he seem affected or does he give you a weird look. If a guy melts into your touch, or his voice dips when you lean in, then he’s totally into you”

“I like the _sniff_ part,” Castiel finally spoke up with a chuckle. “The scent lingers inside your mind for as long as you remain attracted to the person. It’s rather much proven also that scents stimulate feelings. For example, lavender induces sleep.”

“How does Dean smell to you, Cas?” Charlie boldly asked and after she received a jab in her side, her snort didn’t escape the older man.

“Well, in all honesty, Irish Spring is his signature scent. And a hint of minty toothpaste. I also constantly detect the spicy fragrance of his aftershave and the low tones of books.”

Impressed, Dean actually laughed from the response which was rather intriguing. “Wow. You’re spot on though.” Indeed the exactness wasn’t surprising since he was a loyal user of Irish Spring over the years. But it was the way the older man summed everything up so nicely that piqued his interest because he was never conscious of anyone paying so much attention to him; well enough to pinpoint that he smelled like books.

“And how do I smell, might I ask?” Castiel asked afterwards, arms still folded and a bashful look upon his face.

The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular so thankfully, Charlie took up the reins with obvious guilty intentions. “Like heaven to me but like a snack to certain people.”

“Oh, really?” Castiel sent her an interested look and smiled warmly. “And who might these certain people be?”

“The cannibals living in the mountains,” Dean supplied and immediately an abundance of laughter followed. “Make sure you lock your doors or else they’ll crawl in and devour you inch by inch.”

“Last but not least,” Charlie was thoroughly enjoying herself as she flipped the page and pressed it down. “Smiling. Does he always smile when he’s with you? If a guy finds you appealing, he will even laugh at your bad jokes and constantly try to tease. If just one of these signs is there, then it could be that he’s interested but there never a better way than finding out the truth by showing your interest too. If you really don’t know what he feels then flirt with him subtly. Compliment his eyes or tell him that he’s handsome.”

“Very informative and well received,” Castiel nodded, returning his hand onto Dean’s left shoulder and squeezing softly. “I daresay, you two will have quite a lovely time perusing the pages together. Am I wrong, Charlie?”

“Um, I guess not?” the young woman peered up at him curiously and it was then when she noticed the soft blush that settled on Castiel’s face.

It was a strange sight because she wasn’t aware of what caused the splash of color, except relating it to the contents of the article and even that could not be determined. But there was something else though, small but significant in those blue eyes which immediately unsettled her because it seemed like Castiel was somewhat affected by her close companionship with Dean. She could highlight the uneasiness in his demeanor and didn’t wish to come between the two.

“I um, need to do lady things in the washroom,” and after excusing herself, the two men were left in each other’s company to merely exchange glances and then settle into a comfortable silence.

By then, Dean was far too settled on his own kind of peace to finally rethink the points in the article but no matter how much analysis was done, all he could pinpoint was nothing to worry about.

“Cas, to answer your question earlier about how you smell, I’d have to go with fruity. As always. I mean,” Dean laughed low and shrugged, “for as long as I’ve known you, there’s just the one cologne. And apart from that, the fresh linen never goes away as well as the Old Spice. Books, yeah definitely, you smell like books as well as peppermint and vanilla.”

Castiel inhaled deeply and nodded, a sense of calm settling over his character. “So you _have_ been sniffing me. That’s refreshing to know.”

“Aventus by Creed, right?”

“I’m impressed that you’d know that,” blue eyes widened to show surprise as their gaze deepened. “Enlighten me on how you discovered such a thing.”

“Well,” the younger man tilted his head and never diverted the scrutiny, “I kind asked Sam about it a couple years ago because he’s always spending a shitload of money on his colognes and that’s when he told me that the one you wear is on the list of the most expensive colognes in the world. Which pissed me off by the way because I couldn’t ever buy you one that would live up to that kind of reputation.”

“You mustn’t think like that,” Castiel said softly, his fingers curling behind Dean’s right ear as he tucked a few strands away. “Any gift you give me, I would treasure it more than anything in my life. You are, after all, the most special to me.” His voice dipped a little as it always does when the topic was too severe to dwell on and in that moment, when their eyes remained on each other, green ones blinked slowly.

“When you tell me those things, Cas,” Dean said softly, reaching up and collecting the older man’s hand into his, “you really shake me up, you know? In a good way though. I mean, all things considering, you’re just so damn good to me. Sharing all your knowledge, good manners, that kind of thing.”

“And now you must return the same good influence onto your new friend…or love interest?”

“Charlie?” Dean let go of Castiel’s fingers and felt like a small piece of him was missing already. But he rather much was suddenly tickled by the conversation and wondered whether the coaxing of the red head away to allow them some privacy was really and truly intended to disarm him in some way.

“Yes. You two are rather much suited.”

“Come on, Cas. There’s nothing there. She’s like a sister to me, man.”

“Must everyone close to you be labelled as a family member? Brother, sister?” Castiel’s voice was a little uneven as he continued to offer that same intense gaze that could always disarm the younger man. “Don’t you think that it’s rather unfair for someone who might be very much…interested in you to believe that they can never stand a chance?”

“I never thought about it that…way,” Dean frowned, “but there’s no one that I’d even consider to be interested in me at this point…” There literally was no one would who seem remotely attached to him as an object of fascination. And he couldn’t determine why his friend would appear to be troubled by the thought.

Castiel sighed, sipped some more wine and favored the fireplace crackling across the room. “You might be surprised.”

“Who then? Humor me, man. Who in this small village seems to be eyeing me up as a potential boyfriend or husband?”

“Anyone in their right mind would find you attractive and well-suited!” Castiel leaned in and lowered his voice as if afraid of rousing attention from the older Winchester and Bobby. “Needless to say, my dearest Dean, Charlie would be a fool to dismiss the notion.”

“Can you stop it? Huh?” Green eyes darkened from the unaccepted topic that troubled him because of it lacking any truth. “That why you sent her off? So you could hammer me with questions about whether she’s my girlfriend or not?”

The older man suddenly inhaled deeply as if gathering up a generous amount of composure and whilst their gaze deepened, he allowed the silence to be prolonged.

Dean though, was far too revved up to discontinue the line of thought. “Why are you looking at me like that? You don’t think I’m telling the truth? Dude, it’s not like I’m on a mission to tie down some girl, you know? And the funny part about you believing that I am, is that you _know_ how I am. I’m not going to chase after a skirt. I haven’t done it for years and what makes you think that _she’s_ my type, anyway?”

“I’m sorry I brought up the topic…”

“No, better out than in, as _you_ always say, right?” Dean’s chest was burdened by hanging on the precipice of a moment where he honestly believed that Castiel was about to break and he would have to compensate for his tongue running away from his brain. Why the older man seemed to be bearing down on the moment was unclear to Dean, but he ascertained that a slight jealousy over his attention stretching too thin might be the culprit.

“Why are you getting so upset about it?”

“I’m not getting upset.” Dean scoffed and folded his arms, feeling very petulant about his reaction.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded and never diverted his probing gaze, “you _are_ becoming upset. You're quite easy to read. I've known you for years. And despite your lamentations about being spared by love, it appears as if you _are_ somewhat affected by the pangs of it recently. Your neck reddens excessively when you're severely worked up, and so does your face. Needless to say," the older man allowed their eyes to meet as green ones widened, "you might be falling before even realizing the truth."

"Yeah, right. Chances of me falling in love is as slim as Sam balding his head."

Just then, Charlie came back and tore his attention away from blue eyes that were still latched onto him. Gone was the moment that seemed to escalate in a way that he didn’t really understand because there was something rippling inside of Castiel’s mind. It was something that Dean would have loved to study and squeeze out the meaning but he couldn’t because the moment was lost.

“Now if you two will excuse me, I will take my leave. No, don’t,” he provided when the younger man made an attempt to accompany him. “I can manage.”

All Dean could do was stare and become entirely flustered by his friend’s honest disbelief in the truth although uttered so many times prior.

But Castiel couldn’t be more wrong about his attachment to Charlie because she really was like a sister to him and nothing more. And because he was so misunderstood, Dean was ready to debate but apparently his friend was too eager to suddenly depart their company that he pulled open the door and went out into the night.

“What was that about?” she asked after they were left alone and her friend continued to frown at the door. “Why did he leave so suddenly?”

“He thinks that we’re…compatible.” Dean studied his father and Bobby laughing in front of the fire and he wished that like old times, he and Castiel could remain on the chair and carry their conversation well after nine in the night.

Charlie’s forehead creased from worry, “as friends…right?”

“No,” he sighed, shook his head and sent her a downcast look, “as a couple. You believe that?”

Instantly she gasped and couldn’t help it as a bout of laughter burst forward into her hands. “Dude, no freaking way! Could he be more wrong? I mean, that’s hardly what’s happening here. You’re not my type. I’m not your type, if you even have a type at all…which I think you do but you’re just too blind to know it as yet.”

“Look, don’t start, okay?” Dean shifted uncomfortably in the window seat and turned around to peer through the glass. Just then, the gate was swung open and Castiel’s darkened figure slowly made its way through the night.

He wanted to run out there and stop him, to somehow convince the older man that there was nothing between him and Charlie but why did he feel compelled to do that? Why was he becoming so flustered by his friend completely misjudging the situation? Simple enough, Dean didn’t like to be misunderstood, especially by his best friend and because the trust between them only survived on being completely honest with each other, he felt bruised.

“All I’m saying is that this is going to happen, you just wait and see. Give it like a month or so and you’ll be falling in love with him so fast that—”

Dean groaned, tossed his head back and tried to shut out her nonsensical rambling because Castiel’s behavior was so unsettling. The last time he felt backed into a corner and questioned in such a manner was many years ago when he entertained the likes of Lisa, and even then the intrusion by his best friend wasn’t so heavy as it was earlier. Flushed cheeks and an absolute silence? Why was Castiel so troubled by the notion of a match between himself and Charlie when he should be absolutely thrilled and supportive? Or maybe Dean was reading the conversation wrongfully by assuming that his friend was displeased when he was in fact generously ready to supply a celebratory spirit if such a match existed.

Later that night though, his suspicions were given substance when the telephone rang and after his father answered, he called Dean from the kitchen to pick up the line. Frowning at his father and wondering who could be ringing at such a late hour, he collected the phone and wondered if it was Charlie. But it wasn’t.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” he became troubled by the older man’s lowered tone that sounded too strained.

“Everything, I am…so ashamed of ambushing you earlier,” Castiel said and sighed as John’s light footsteps sounded on the staircase when he headed to his bedroom. “Dean, I did not mean to cement the idea of you being romantically entwined with Charlie so boldly. It was rather unbecoming of me.”

Leaning a hip onto the wall by the table that housed the phone, the younger man twirled the cord around his finger and sighed too. “Honestly, it was damn weird.”

“I know and I do apologize but after listening to the words in that very detailed article and examining how close you two have become…everything that was mentioned; I just became rather much suspicious…” Castiel paused and the sound of running water in the background was like music to Dean’s ears, so soft and soothing. “Forgive me for being out of line when I shouldn’t even be inquiring about your love life. I shouldn’t even be questioning you about who you might be interested in and who might be inclined to you and it’s really none of my business because—"

"Cas, slow down, okay? You're running away from me here," Dean didn't realize that his voice was strained until a slight tickle emanated from his throat. Only then did he notice how his chest felt heavy still and burdened by something that could not identify itself easily. "Don't apologize, man. It's not a big deal anyway and look, you can ask me whatever you want to. You're entitled to because we're _that_ close, okay? So, don't get worked up about it and just know that as soon as I find myself fancying a girl, you'll be the first to know. That's why you're my best friend. Anything going on with me, I'll tell you so if there's someone…" Dean stopped because he suddenly could not highlight Castiel's slow breathing, and the phone was silent and too daunting.

For a full minute, he listened intently, holding his own breath until the heaviness suffocated him because he understood that they were still connected, but Dean could not determine why there were no words.

"Cas?" he croaked, fingers wrapped around the phone a little tighter than before. "You still there?"

"Yes," the older man said softly, so soft as if he was a million miles away.

Dean couldn't decipher why there was a troubling feeling inside of his chest but he literally pinpointed the tension between them and wondered why it even existed.

"What's wrong, Cas?" he asked quietly, knowing since earlier that a storm was brewing in the older man's mind. "Talk to me, man. What's going on with you, huh?"

"It's getting late. I should go."

Dean nodded, swallowed hard and gingerly chewed his lips because he detested when someone backed him into a corner and expected nothing but sincerity. "Fine. Be like that. Shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out," Castiel said in his gravelly voice as the rattle of a curtain drifted through the phone. "I'm just tired."

"You know, one of the things I hate is when someone's lying to me. And right now, you're not telling me something. And I know it. I just know that you're keeping something from me, man. You can't keep doing this, Cas. You can't…do this," Dean inhaled deeply and squeezed his eyes shut because it was always a struggle between them so many times. "Let me in, dammit. Why can't you open up more, huh? I give you a full ninety at least and I always feel like you don't reach me because of that damn wall."

"Dean, everyone has walls…"

"Yeah, but we're not like everyone, Cas. You know that." Twisting his right foot on the tiled floor, Dean suddenly grew colder and wondered why the fire could not dull the chill in the living room. It was then when he realized that his father had doused the flames until the embers glowed faintly.

"Goodnight, Dean," Castiel said softly, after five minutes slipped by in an awkward silence and even then, the air between them didn't settle at all. "Sweet dreams."

"Maybe I _should_ get a girlfriend," Dean said on a whim, and not quite certain that he wished to end the call. "It's funny that sometimes I lean so much on you and hang onto every damn word you say that I feel like I'm the soppy, emotional girl. Like this is some relationship we have going on where I’m committed to you and any other person I get close to, it makes me feel so guilty about what you'd think." He stopped talking and realized that saying enough was already accomplished and he felt foolish for it. "Good night."

"Dean," Castiel's tone was uneven, even as the younger man struggled to understand why his heart ached, "Dean, wait a minute. You're not soppy or emotional. And you're absolutely _not_ a girl. Now, let me assure you that we are fine and as always, I encourage you to make friends so that you may gift other people with the opportunity of knowing how amazing you are. Please do not feel as if I am to be considered when you're seeking out new friendships because we are already best friends and there is no limit to how many acquaintances one may have."

Dean sighed, nodded although quite conscious of the older man unable to witness the reaction and then he swallowed down the burn of being a little too emotional over something that would rather conceal itself than come to light. "So you don't mind if I make like fifty friends."

"Once they are creditable and of little to no bad influence…"

"What about three other best friends?"

"Absolutely not. I am to be your only best friend because none can compare to twenty-five years of knowing and loving you as I do."

"Okay, cool then, Romeo." Dean, impressed by the possessiveness, and delighted that he was very special enough for someone to claim him so willingly, smiled and embraced the truth.

Chuckling on the other end, Castiel said, "I prefer the term _huggy bear_. I am not going to stand underneath your window and call out or sing to you. Disappointing but the truth."

"Ass," Dean laughed before hanging up and remaining by the telephone, lingering in his thoughts, he smiled after realizing that despite their absolutely ridiculous troubling conversations at times, they always seemed to come to a comforting and assuring conclusion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Excerpt:**

_“So, you’re saying that sex isn’t a big deal for you,” Dean smiled although his insides twitched from the thought of Castiel writhing in bed with a woman. Wait a minute! Where did that originate from? He stopped smiling and stared back at the older man then swallowed hard, obviously trying to appear rather much composed than deeply affected._

_“Sex with the **right** person is.”_

_“And the right person is…” he was curious, just enough to feel completely comfortable about it instead of guilty about fishing._

* * *

Dean couldn’t deny that an abundance of distractions turned up during the week, and quite enough to heighten the belief that life in Littleton could be quite eventful although most people thought otherwise.

First of all, Ellen stopped by on Tuesday to present her daughter Jo, radiant and still equipped with an abundance of sass. She was changed; matured into a fine young woman and all the more mischievous and bolder in ways than before. And because John and Bobby were in the workshop, the three of them settled onto the couch and delved into many topics without any kind of judgments on either side.

His father would have disagreed with the meeting for obvious reasons; Dean’s past relationship with Jo proved to be nothing more than harmful and a lesson well learned. But Ellen seemed to believe that having the two young people meet couldn’t do much damage because it was evident that her daughter moved on and so did Dean.

They greeted each other as friends, hugged and laughed about the things that didn’t change since she was last in Littleton. Like his ridiculous taste in turtleneck sweaters and making love to his books. Forever the nerd, she referred to his character and would have added that she still believed him handsome if it wasn’t for her mother’s presence.

Then the matter of her recent consultations with Castiel was revealed. Apparently, Jo and her boyfriend at the time joined together to open a bar in Canada, but after his greediness, he deliberately squandered the capital and profited off of her blindness. She, on the other hand, fought effortlessly to regain her funds but only a small percentage was returned. And because her university tuition was relying on the existence of the rest of money, Jo would have been in a bit of a fix.

“Thanks to Castiel,” she provided with a smile, relieved that her mother left to join her husband at the back of the house, “I’m going to finish my last two years with a full paid ride.”

Dean immediately expressed disbelief at the news by sitting up and staring. “What did he do? Settle the case for you to get back all that’s owed?” The house was serene that day, glorious sunshine outside to reflect his heightened mood resulting from a day free of classes.

“Truth is, the wimp ran off with the money anyway,” Jo rolled her eyes, arms folded and seemed as contented as always by enough self-confidence to boost her character. “So, Cas nor any other lawyer couldn’t do anything much. Instead, your best bud paid off my tuition in full although I told him not to. Apparently, he did it more for Ellen than me but between us, I think he has a crush on me.”

Forgetting his glass of lemonade, Dean couldn’t contain how the news deeply affected him by offering a deepened frown. “What makes you think that? Cas is definitely not the type to have crushes.”

“Then why does he find every excuse to walk with me to town?” Jo smiled and shook her head slowly in disbelief. “The guy is such a gentleman, the other night we ended up eating out at this café on Main Street. Think it’s called _Red Wine_ and it felt like a date. I was so impressed that he would go out of his way to like, you know, take me out.”

It couldn’t be. She had to be mistaken because Castiel never wined and dined anyone except entertain his own comfort at home or at the Winchester's house. He was a severe introvert and would find any excuse to avoid the company of strangers unless he trusted them. Or…found them attractive, that is…

Jo blossomed into a woman who would catch the eye of any man with genuine interest and Dean couldn’t deny that much. He couldn’t look at her and turn down the actuality of Castiel becoming instantly drawn to his ex-girlfriend because falling prey to the wit and charm was his downfall a few years ago. Jo possessed the kind of personality that would disarm any man, providing that she believed him to be worthy. And if Castiel was captivated by her, then it was deliberate.

But because the disadvantages in regards to the match sprung up like weeds, he collected his lemonade and drained the glass, knowing all too well that crossing boundaries would irritate him.

His ex-girlfriend like he mentioned to Castiel before was off limits. The two of them couldn’t possibly have anything in common; books, drawn to nature, an obsession over honey and bees, and an absolute distaste towards drinking which Jo reveled in. Added to that, Castiel was a man of habitat and Jo loved to travel, seek out new places which was the sole reason why she migrated to Canada to study. And because there was nothing in common to dwell on, he thought the manner in which she spoke of Castiel rather strange.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, man,” Dean shrugged then relaxing on the chair, he observed her wide smile. “It’s not like he started lending you books and trying to get you interested in stuff he likes, right?”

Jo’s slow blink stunned him instantly. “He’s lent me three so far and I’ve read them all. Dean, the guy showed me his library and practically begged me to take what I wanted for my studies. Either he does that with everyone or he’s just really into me. I have no idea but the distraction is nice, especially since I want to get over that asshole in Canada. Isn’t there a saying that in order to get over someone, you should get _under_ someone else?”

Dean almost swallowed the gum he was chewing. “You wouldn’t,” he stared at her because there was no way to oppose the passion behind Jo’s intent.

“I totally would. He’s gorgeous and he smells fucking amazing. Plus he’s packing and I bet that he’s got a sexy ass too.”

“You…haven’t changed one bit,” Dean considered her humor with barely a smile. “Cas is more of the courting type as opposed to the kind of dude who jumps right into sex. He most likely loves to subtly flirt whilst getting to know you. He’s good at reading your mind and his heart is huge.”

Jo was the one who seemed impressed as she sat back and stared. “Wow. So mom was right after all.”

“About what?” green eyes widened. “She said the same things too about him?”

“You know what,” she sighed as if completely tired of trying to prove a point, “forget it.”

Gradually, the two of them settled into the chair and gazed out the window at the moor and swaying blades of grass. But deep down inside, of course the subject dwelled on prior upset Dean because he couldn’t deny the jealousy spiraling through his chest like little wisps of smoke.

Castiel and Jo?

She obviously felt that the older man was a worthy conquest so determination would possibly lead to a favorable end result in her mind because if Jo wanted something, or someone, she never failed. And the more he thought about the two of them hooking up, the more Dean’s spirits fell into a depressed state.

He didn’t believe that he could stomach the match if it happened for various reasons too selfish to voice to anyone. First was the guilt of becoming too familiar with Castiel’s lack of attention towards anyone else except him and Dean highly favored that bond. In Ellen’s case, when she married, her attention swayed from absolutely doting on him to showering her husband with that love. And he couldn’t lose someone else’s affections, especially Castiel.

What on earth would he do with his life?

“Are you gay?” Jo suddenly asked whilst considering the side of his face and brushing her knuckles over a light stubble.

Dean almost choked on the question and suddenly felt the air in the room grow colder. “Dude, what? No.” After she tried to pluck off his black framed glasses, he batted away her mischievous hand.

“It’s damn okay if you are. It would explain a lot about what happened between us,” she turned sideways and folded her feet under. “No one knows why you ended it with Lisa. Just like that and you two were calling it quits. And when you hooked up with me, I could feel that something was missing. I mean, we would be making out and you just weren’t into it and you never ever… _came.”_

He stared at her and couldn’t believe that after all this time, the efforts made on her part to unhinge him never dulled. “You’re really going _there_ , huh?” The boldness was too severe to misplace, but reliant on his growing suspicion that her visit was anything but to present an abundance of mockery.

“It’s the only way I can get closure, you ass.”

“What do you want me to say, Jo? That I’ve always been gay and that’s why things didn’t work out between us? Because really and truly, you were fantastic but I just couldn’t…I couldn’t love you as much as you needed to be loved. We burned out pretty fast,” Dean frowned because voicing the truth was far too easier than what he expected. “And it’s not because I wasn’t into you. It’s just that I wasn’t in it for the long haul. Maybe it was me. Not being ready and all.”

Jo sighed because the abundance of words would never convince her enough. “You can’t even see the truth now just like you couldn’t back then. And the funny thing is, you keep using your damn pride to try to make everything better but it wouldn’t make everything better, Dean. The first thing you need to do is to breathe. Like, start feeling and being who you are instead of living a lie because you might never be able to see what other people see. But it’s so obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” By then he was clearly upset by her attempts to assess his character and believe that she could be completely correct on every aspect.

“You don’t expect me to tell you who you are.”

“You’re doing a fantastic job so far,” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me exactly who I am like you always did?”

Jo rolled her eyes and got up from the chair. “I don’t have time to argue with you like old times. I’m way past that and over you so I know what it feels like when a guy is really digging sex.”

“Screw you, Jo,” Dean’s eyes burned with rage because using him as a punching bag was never what he expected. He anticipated polite conversation on friendly terms minimum, not to be backed into a corner and accused of being mediocre in bed.

She glared back at him and her chest heaved though, evidently surfing on a heightened anger that wouldn’t fade away. “Yeah, you wish.”

When she left, Dean stared through the window for close to an hour before the anger simmered away enough to clear his mind.

How could she come into the house and literally defame his character after being absent for over five years?

The lack of maturity was clearly evident on her side because she wanted to believe that her intentions were justified. But there was nothing but hate and anger between them and how dare she bring up their sex lives and label his performance as inadequate? Jo was the one who kept forcing to ignite a flame that wasn’t there from the beginning but because he was kind enough to allow her advances, Dean entertained the affections.

He never wished to wound her, never took advantage of the situation like most guys would have. All of the good mannerism resulted in her disrespect, coloring him as a victim who didn’t understand himself as much as she did. And because he was most certainly angered by the encounter, Dean retreated to his room and remained there for the rest of the day.

When evening came, the friends date he promised to take part in almost slipped by without remembering that it was Saturday. Wuthering Heights wasn’t his most ideal choice of a favorite novel but the complexities intrigued him enough. Especially after further reading Wide Sargasso Sea which expounded on the lady in the attic, he never did get a chance to pick up the story again and now it seemed like a good enough chance to look for subtle hints in the movie.

However, after realizing that he would have to spend time in the company of _Jo’s Benefactor_ , Dean prayed that the evening was called off. He didn’t wish to feed his irritation any more than locking himself away and stewing in silence. But at precisely five o’clock, Charlie arrived and before coming up to his room, she called Castiel to remind him of the movie.

Dean could have opened up his closet and escape to Narnia if such a possibility existed because it meant that he wouldn’t have to sulk in other people’s company after the day’s events. Contrary to his beliefs though, a long shower erased more than half the frustrations of the day and after debating on what to wear, he settled on a black long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.

Charlie’s exclamation on his attire fueled Dean with the belief that he was overdressed although appearing rather handsome in the mirror. But nevertheless, he stuck to the absence of turtleneck or plaid and afterwards she successfully bathed her friend in his Armani Code perfume that Sam delivered as a gift last Christmas.

“God, you smell so delish.” Charlie sniffed his chest boldly and sighed. “Which convinces me that they always make these colognes with the right scents to drive women crazy.”

“Keep that up and Cas will be totally convinced that we’re a couple. Hey what’s the time looking like?” frowning, he buttoned the wrists of the sleeves one by one and felt a little too prideful with his reflection in the mirror.

“Almost six. He really told you that? He thinks I’m into you?”

“Yup,” he collected his phone from the brown oak vanity and headed towards the door, Charlie following with a frown. “Suddenly my life has become a big joke. My ex-girlfriend Jo showed up today.” He related the news about his friend wine and dining and acting as a benefactor, all the while trying to keep the anger at bay.

Charlie’s disbelief was instant as expected and she detected the simmering disapproval. “It could be that she’s trying to get back at you. And ew, you’re gorgeous but I see you as a big brother. So, I don’t understand how he gets that vibe from us. Maybe I should say something to him about it.”

“Don’t,” Dean said quickly as they descended the stairs and the front door opened and closed softly. The shuffle of shoes suggested that the awful green mat was being used, the one John insisted on purchasing, which bore the words ‘stop and clean your damn shoes, or be shot by the owner’.

“You’re definitely not into _me_.” Charlie said in glee but after the two of them reached the bottom of the steps and faced the third person to join their party, the smile slipped from her face.

Dean’s first impression of the older man’s attire was clearly an abundance of admiration enough to drop his jaw. The usual suit was replaced by a blue long-sleeved shirt that matched the exact shade of Castiel’s eyes, paired with black tailored pants, he looked so stunning. Even Charlie gaped and because she was far too convinced of him oozing sex appeal already, her usual abundance of words never kicked off because she was far too astounded by the view.

Castiel, after assessing their faces, turned to the younger man and smiled. “So, here is the cutest couple in town,” and although his eyes were pinched from a smile, the happiness dulled in his tone. “Well done, Dean.”

"You just don't give up, do you?" Dean's tone reflected nothing but irritation. "What do you want me to do? Go down on my knees and ask you to marry me? That way you can stake your claim?"

"Very tempting offer, Dean…" their eyes leveled into a deepened gaze and then the young lady in their midst cleared her throat after melting from the subtext.

“Oh, he’s not in love with me,” Charlie scoffed even after her friend delivered a definite glare from his earlier warning of never to contribute to the topic.

“Really now?” Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean, already in the process of slowly admiring the other man’s attire without concealing his intrigue. “Then have I been so mistaken to assume otherwise?” The sliver of hope resting inside those blue orbs was far too evident.

“Damn right you are,” Charlie patted Castiel on his shoulder with a wide grin and boldly sniffed his right arm then inhaled deeply. “Nothing going on here except familial love, McDreamy. You on the other hand. I heard that you’re pining after someone.”

“Am I? Then again, gossip is contagious in Littleton. Dean, will you let me drive your car?”

“That’s…not going to happen,” the younger man found his voice after becoming terribly distracted by Castiel’s astounding attire and he sighed. “Since when do I make anything easy for you?” Then moving past his best friend, he sought out the door and left the house.

The two other persons who remained by the staircase turned to each other and narrowed their eyes but smiled nevertheless. Whilst one honestly believed that he was being replaced by a rather youthful and beautiful young lady, the other was far too convinced that her suspicions were spot on. But they stared each other down in all good humor. Then after ascertaining that their judgment of character was far too friendly than harsh, the air lightened enough.

“You know, there’s something about you that I just can’t like…pinpoint as yet,” Charlie chuckled, punching Castiel’s arm playfully. “But I will find out what it is if it’s the last thing I do.”

“What on earth might that be though?” the older man linked their arms and they proceeded to the door. “Humor me.”

“I think it has to do with Dean.”

“What about Dean?” Castiel studied her face as they stalled on the doorstep just on the green mat, their shoes quite opposite; black polished ones and bright red Converse sneakers.

Charlie wasn’t quick to confess but the energy inside of her to highlight her suspicions was far too much. “I think that you’re the Watson to his Sherlock. Well, he’s not really _like_ Holmes. But you’re a lot like Watson so every Watson needs a Sherlock.”

“Okay then,” he smiled and nodded slowly but still rather much confused. “I’ll pretend that I know exactly what that means. But I am familiar with Holmes and Watson, so indeed, Dean and I are quite a pair.”

"You _do_ realize that he practically just asked you to marry him and you turned it down?"

Castiel's forehead creased and he delighted in searching her beaming face. "He suggested it, but bypassed the opportunity as a frivolous one, didn't he?"

"And would you have said yes if he did?" Charlie's eyes widened, gripping his right arm and on the verge of squealing.

The older man sighed, tilted his head and nodded. "I plead the fifth—"

"Hey, come on!" she protested loudly, cheeks dusting pink from the inability to muffle the little bomb of happiness exploding inside her chest. "No fair, the fifth is denied!"

They stepped outside and just when the real question was ready to roll off her tongue, Castiel waved at Dean in such happiness, that Charlie couldn’t be more convinced of something happening between the two men. But apparently both were in denial about their feelings whilst to an onlooker, everything was so crystal clear.

“You two done flirting?” Dean glared at them and tapped his fingers impatiently on the roof of the car. “Or should I stay here and let Charlie take you to the movie?”

When the pair of smiles turned into giggles, the effect on the younger man was grand enough for him to hop into the car and fire up the engine with a definite scowl on his face.

After grabbing two popcorns and three sodas, the trio entered the cinema and approached the third row. The maroon colored seats were the same ones that dated back to the days when his parents frequented the same space. Even the screen was exactly the shape and size from the eighties and nothing ever changed, apparently time slowed down in Littleton.

Building his hopes up that he would situate Charlie in the middle, the young woman snatched Dean, and planted _him_ in between herself and Castiel. And immediately, he decided that he would not enjoy the movie because to sit next to a man who distrusted him to spare the truth wasn’t something that he favored. He thought that they were close enough to be honest with each other and obviously secrets still resided between them.

Jo kept coming into his mind over and over again and his father’s warnings about keeping a distance for good reasons seemed like an even better idea than before. He always used to declare that she was too modern for Dean’s tastes and her lifestyle settled more on thrills first and books later. Whereas Dean was the opposite and although opposites did attract, in their case, he was beginning to feel like their relationship was based on a pity game instead of anything genuine.

When the movie rolled fifteen minutes in, by then, it became apparent that Charlie hugged her own popcorn whilst he was left to share with his dear smitten best friend. And he was absolutely still unsettled by the whole matter, barely able to pay attention to the movie and still wondering why he was so unfortunate enough to be kept in the dark.

The likes of Jo could perhaps _thrill_ him, because Castiel was too dull to survive in such a lifestyle. But what Dean couldn’t understand was the _why_. Why did his friend entertain the silly idea of courting a woman he could know nothing about except her financial status? Was it a game?

How could he bail her out of debt, remedy the problem of her tuition and do all of that in such a whim?

The worst part of it all was Castiel taking Jo into his library when he was never fortunate enough or privileged. He asked her to borrow his books, in fact, he _insisted_ and if that wasn’t substantial then what else was? Books were like intimate friends that you couldn’t simply lend to strangers. And just because he refrained from going over to the Novak’s estate didn’t give Castiel the right to entertain Jo in the company of his most prized collections.

He was so insulted by the slight by his friend that Dean couldn’t focus on the movie and would have been lost completely if the book was not read by him on several occasions before. Coupled with that, his mind was so absent from the cinema that in the process of reaching for some more popcorn, he brushed fingers with Castiel. And after feeling the anger lightly burning away because of their inability to remain at odds with each other, he still held on to it because _that_ kind of response to the injustice was necessary. Never before were they on this page, and the older man needed to know that his actions were out of order and hurtful enough to wound Dean in the most terrible way.

“You look quite handsome tonight,” Castiel said after some time had passed in uncomfortable silence and he provided his usual smile. “Are you okay?” he leaned closer and pressed their arms together, “you seem somewhat distracted.”

“All good,” Dean lied, green eyes reflecting the movie whilst he chewed slowly. “You?” _Of course, you’re fine._

“I’m quite contented at the moment with good company and the movie. In fact, between you and me, Wuthering Heights has never been my ultimate favorite,” Castiel chuckled softly as his blue eyes reflected the movie. “Do you share the same view?”

The cinema lacked a crowd and perhaps only ten other persons were present so in their own little space, no one could eavesdrop except for Charlie who constantly kept glancing between the two men.

“I don’t think we share the same views anymore,” Dean mumbled, feeling his throat burn after swallowing a mouthful of popcorn and reaching for his soda.

Castiel frowned at the screen and allowed some more silence between them for clarity. “Of course, we do and always will, which is why I highly favor your company.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere else with _someone_ else?” Dean’s irritation enveloped him and although he tried to swallow the prickly ball inside his throat, the presence wouldn’t go away.

Sighing, the older man plucked up some more popcorn, as always, was perfectly capable of remaining calm. “Absolutely not. I’d rather be with you, Dean.”

The audacity to reveal nothing but lies, with the obvious intent to fool him into believing it all, was far too much to stomach. “Really? Heard you bailed Jo out of her misery. So, it seems like you’re all taken up with affections at the moment. You know, she’s lucky to have an angel like you swoop in and rescue her.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel’s tone was pleading after turning to consider the younger man’s face. “Please enjoy the movie and stop worrying about nonsensical matters.”

“It’s not nonsensical to me!” Dean loudly whispered and he received a jab in the rib from Charlie. Silence followed and then because he was fueled on continuing, he launched into the truth. “How could you do that to me, Cas?” his voice remained low as he leaned into the other man’s space, their faces inches apart. “How could you disregard my feelings so much that you ended up taking my ex out for dinner?”

Castiel eyes widened immediately and he swallowed, completely stunned by the accusation. “Dean, stop it—”

“No, _you_ stop it. Stop behaving as if you’re clueless, because you know exactly what the hell I’m talking about. I can’t believe you would even get so close to her.”

“Oh right, because like you mentioned before, I shouldn’t _get close_ to anyone except you. Is that it?” Castiel’s gravelly voice wavered as their eyes remained glued to each other. “That all my affections should rest on you without debate?”

“That’s hardly the point and you know it. And you know what? I was wrong. You could do as you please. I don’t give a damn who the person is. Once it’s not Jo.” Fists clenched upon his lap, Dean wished to continue but feared that his raised tone would become an annoyance.

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel’s stared at the screen and nodded slowly as if he was too wounded to defend himself at that point. “I’m glad that you feel that way and you’ve finally given your consent for me to be with whomever I wish to be with. Thank you for expressing your concerns.”

“Don’t fraternize me.”

Castiel turned in his chair and the two of them glared at each other for the first time since the argument commenced. Whilst one lacked the harshness of judgment, the other produced nothing but a weakened composure influenced by anger. And with their faces inches apart, the message was delivered quite clearly that both of them were perhaps too captivated enough to digress.

“Don’t speak to me like that, Dean,” Castiel said softly, evidently upset but revealing nothing of the sort. “I am not deserving of your harsh words and it irritates me that you would honestly believe that I deliberately intend to hurt you.”

“Like you care how I feel about this.” Dean’s eyes glistened from holding back tears that would not stay away.

“I do care how you feel. I’ve always cared immensely and it has become painful to listen to you jump to conclusions without seeking my side of the matter as if this is the new norm. Now if I was to treat you in the same manner by taking everything at face value, would you deem _that_ as agreeable?”

“Like how you assume that me and Charlie are together?” Dean stared back, his chest burning and hands growing cold. “You honestly want to talk about jumping to conclusions?”

“Dean, I was only teasing you. Isn’t that what I constantly do? I’ve done it for years.” Castiel’s forehead creased in concern, displaying that the severity wrongfully felt on the topic was terribly confusing. “Why are you suddenly taking everything that I say or do so seriously? Isn’t my personality well understood by you to ascertain that I am quite jovial and humorous?”

Lacking a response, Dean lowered his eyes and leaned back into the chair, clearly frustrated by the conflicting thoughts that wouldn’t settle. All those heightened emotions did was pelt him off a cliff and sent him hurling into a pit of pain.

Castiel, on the other hand would not refrain from conducting the same kind of scrutiny as expected. “Am I not your best friend anymore? Hmm?” leaning in closer, he lowered his voice so that they would not be overheard. “Are you so willing to replace me with Charlie that your mind is quickly turning against me? And yes, I have noticed the sudden inclination to seek her confidence more than you seek mine.”

“You jealous, Cas?”

“Do you mean like you most certainly are right now?”

Silence.

If he could write about it, then his thoughts would take the form of a tragic piece of prose expressing nothing but complete embarrassment and self-assessment. What was it about this sudden feeling of drawing a bow back so tight inside his chest and awaiting the arrow to go shooting into the space between them? Was it his undying wish to hurt the other man in some way to prove a point? And why was he even trying to hurt the one person he loved more than himself?

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was strained with emotion and wavered, his gaze intense and burning the sides of friend’s face. “Look at me.”

Green eyes blinked slowly and the younger man stared at the screen because he couldn’t comply. “I’m just done.”

Done with the inexcusable rise of doubts, the sudden need to punch something, the fact that he felt worthless and wronged. The obvious jealousy which was ridiculous to begin with but so evident that he could taste bitter bile in his mouth. Could it be possible that he had become so attached to the older man that there was no way he could act any other way than selfish enough to deprive him of happiness with someone else? Wasn’t that dangerous and unfair? It surely wasn’t normal between two men to act so stupidly and stubbornly enough to be considered as immature.

Castiel waited and when nothing further was provided, he held his breath. “You’re done with _what_ exactly? Me?”

Chucking the popcorn into the older man’s lap, Dean sprang up, and brushed past Charlie who stared up at her passing friend. “Soda,” he mumbled before finding the aisle and climbing upwards in the dark, fumbling for his balance.

Returning to the lobby, he bought another Pepsi and decided on a packet of peanuts to chew the anger away. Then after dreading his return into the cinema again, Dean wandered around and admired the posters of upcoming movies.

He needed the space to breathe, really believe that it was necessary to separate himself from the situation because if he remained where he was, then an argument would occur. And words would be exchanged that weren’t deserving but would damage their friendship, something that was always his worst nightmare.

After some time passed, Dean went back to his seat and avoided the scrutiny received by the other man. Castiel never preferred backing down, in fact, he favored being intrusive on his assessments of other people’s countenances. Those blue eyes not only penetrated walls but parted curtains to reveal the inner workings of someone’s mind; especially Dean. And because he was so accustomed to the prolonged stares and the famous head tilt, Dean settled into his chair and blurred out his best friend’s continuous attempts to unhinge him with pools of blue.

“You okay?” Charlie nudged his right arm and offered a worried expression. “You were gone for a long time.”

“Saw a friend in the lobby,” he lied with a smile, feeling his skin burn from a fever that was brought on from being too conflicted by his actions and thoughts. “Was catching up with him.”

She bought it and settled into the movie once more as Dean centered himself on ignoring Castiel for the rest of the time. But from the moment he returned his cup to the holder and tried to relax, the feel of a warm hand reaching for his own forced him to stiffen instantly. Dean couldn’t contain his surprise when Castiel entwined their fingers on his lap and squeezed as if reassuring him that everything was going to be fine between them.

He tried to let go, he honestly did but the other man wouldn’t comply, holding on to their connection tightly and breaking the walls between them like it was no big deal. And because Dean understood that the Seventeen article highlighted to all three of them what hand holding meant, he couldn’t believe that Castiel would go out of his way to provide so much confusion. Three times now in succession, the gesture was welcomed without hesitation.

Guys didn’t hold hands. They bumped shoulders. When comforting one another, they playfully slapped each other on the back. They didn’t hold hands and refuse to let go until the movie ended and the credits rolled on the screen. And as soon as the lights flickered on, Dean pulled away, sprung up and followed Charlie without even throwing a glance behind him.

It was until they were inside the lobby when the young lady diverted to speak to a friend of hers and the two men were left in each other’s company in silence that the hand holding came to mind again. Dean decided that Castiel was trying to ridicule him, obviously going out of his way to provide some kind of mockery that was cruel and uncalled for. And he started to bubble up with anger again, only to discover that blue eyes were mellow and glued onto his face.

There it was again, the attempt to dissect his mind, to wade through his thoughts and try to discover ways to disarm him. It was something that Castiel was so capable of succeeding in that he of course understood his power over the younger man and used it to his advantage. But this was not the time to play the power card.

“Quit staring,” Dean said scowling, and then he sipped on his soda, eyes scanning the crowd gathering for the next movie.

“I meant what I said before. I have no intention of hurting you.” Castiel’s tone was desirably low as he chewed on some salted peanuts. "I would never do such a thing to you." He offered up the snack but was denied by the wave of a hand.

“Save it,” Dean rolled his eyes and felt a fire flaring inside of his chest. “I meant what I said before too. That you can do as you please.”

“Why are you so upset with me?” Castiel’s tone changed to register hurt. “Hmm? Why are you trying to wound me with your words? Do you honestly believe Jo’s statements over mine?”

“You didn’t exactly deny any of it. If you’re attracted to her, then fine. I wish the two of you the best.” Folding his arms, Dean wished that Charlie would just return and plant a ray of sunshine between them.

Instead, they stood there awkwardly whilst the crowd thinned out and then Castiel sighed. “What is happening to us, Dean?” he asked in a wounded voice that was far too distracting enough to draw the younger man’s attention to their conversation. “We used to be so chatty and comfortable with one another and now all I can feel from you is immense hate. You used to give me the benefit of the doubt and now, you can’t even look at me.”

Dean immediately directed his glare into blue eyes and never blinked. “I’m looking at you now and I’m asking you _not_ to date her, Cas. I’m asking you as your best friend _not_ to do this because I don’t like it.”

“I’m not attracted to Jo,” Castiel’s expression remained unreadable as always. “We ran into each other in town and decided to have dinner to discuss her financial problems. _She_ as a client. _Me_ as her advisor. I…did not fund her intuition nor did I pay off any debts. My brother did because he was quite close to her father and has always admired her as the child he never had.”

Gradually, Dean’s glare softened into a gaze that filled with tears and quickly, he reached up and squeezed the corners of his eyes. No, it couldn’t be so simple enough that he was absolutely wrong.

“It pains me that you honestly believe that I would go against your wishes,” Castiel’s voice dipped as people passed close to them. “Even before you highlighted that your ex-girlfriend is off limits, I had no intention of doting on her. Dean, I am a man far ahead in years already to be frolicking with someone like her and you are first and foremost my best friend. You may not know what that means to me but I can guarantee you that I would not go out of my way to hurt you.”

Nodding slowly, Dean bit his lips gingerly and sniffed, carefully wiping away the tears that should have bothered him because of exposing such weakness. But it didn’t, well not in Castiel’s company because he was always comfortable enough to show any side of him regardless of the situation. That’s how they were with each other; honest and pure.

“Dean, don’t cry,” Castiel’s voice was so soft and his touch tender on the other man’s shoulder. “I think Jo still holds so much regret in her heart that she deliberately wished to spite you in any way possible. My advice is to stay away from her as much as you can. Am I forgiven now?”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean chuckled despite the tension between them and he spared a glance at the older man. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t think you will ever need to ask for my forgiveness because you will never be capable of wounding me so severely.”

Softly, Castiel caressed his right shoulder as if trying to cover ever inch with as much attention as possible and Dean welcomed it because he was always soothed by those gestures. Like holding hands; who knew that two men completing such an act would be far too soothing than conflicting? Leave it to the two of them to break the norm of things by accomplishing exactly what no one else would attempt and because he was far too comfortable with the idea, Dean suddenly ached so much to entwine their fingers. He wanted to do it, to stand right there before the passing faces and take his best friend’s hand like old times, when he was a small boy heightened by fascination of the world and Castiel was far too eager to be in his company.

But he couldn’t do it, because with age came a sense of assessment of situations that prevent us from acting in any way to tarnish our images. Call it a reflexive action; the need to appear flawless, but it was far too pressuring to give in than to avoid.

“I’m so sorry, Cas. The things I said just came right out of me being hurt.”

Shaking his head and smiling, Castiel blinked slowly. “It’s okay, Dean. You don’t have to explain what happened.”

“I think I have to because even I don’t know what the hell happened…I just…I don’t know, I get so uncomfortable when anything threatens our friendship and maybe you were right. Maybe I’m still immature and acting like a damn child. But I can’t help it. I do care about who you end up with, Cas. I really do and maybe it’s because you deserve the best, which makes me feel like no one would ever be enough to suit you. But I…” Dean fumbled for words and in spite of how the rest tumbled out, he couldn’t continue.

“You’re working yourself into knots that will do you no good than bring on a headache. Breathe,” Castiel sighed, rested a comforting hand on Dean’s back and studied the crowd thinning out. “You know, come what may, you will meet someone who will capture your heart completely and then…I’ll become nothing but a friend who rents a room inside your heart. By then, all this will seem so ridiculous to you because your attention will be focused on your…wife and your children to come. And me…” the older man’s voice was so low, “well I’ll settle for the next best person to spend my life with…”

Dean’s mind was far too absorbed in so many things that he could not provide an answer, things that settled under the surface but never rose up enough to gain clarity. And just when he thought that he could glimpse the substance of those ghosts, they sank lower and concealed themselves.

After Jo’s spiteful visit proved that their friendship of twenty-five years could become unstable easily from a blatant lie, Dean made a vow to himself that he would never allow anyone’s opinion to cloud his judgment. He would always grant Castiel the benefit of the doubt until proven guilty and in no case whatsoever would he justify frivolous claims without investigating.

\----

Charlie and Dean, in need of trying out a new hobby, decided on each compiling a photo book inspired by the things they loved the most. Those things could range from subjects such as quotes, poetry, nature and fashion or culture, and without excluding the most obvious as this would come to light sooner than later; admiration settled on _people_.

Gone were the days when Dean favored the comfort of the house although the weather produced bitter cold rains. Instead, he commenced the traversing of the moor with Charlie by his side. On Sundays, the two of them, hands linked together, drifted further than the Winchester and Novak’s fences to escape into the backlands where the forest was thick. The grass contained a kind of cold wetness which would have seeped into their footwear if they didn’t wear the appropriate boots fit for winter and bundling up into three layers of clothing provided adequate warmth on their small journeys.

The main intent on one particular Sunday was to capture the beauty of the White Mountains that in November wasn’t tipped with snow just yet. And because Dean always felt somewhat drawn to the vastness of nature’s flourished carpet from his backyard to the mountains, he wished more than ever to take as much photos with his phone before winter came heavily.

After leaning against a tree and pulling out a flask from her backpack, Charlie poured two cups of coffee and smiled at Dean squatting by the edge of a cliff, trying to take another snapshot of a winding stream down below. The drop wasn’t far down, perhaps three feet but beyond that, the steepness alluded to instant danger. And after she handed him a cup, Dean joined her to relax in one attitude for quite some time.

“You know my mother used to bring me out here when I was little,” she said smiling at the mountains. “She would put up a tent in the summer and we’d roast marshmallows in a fire. Dad was always busy in Vermont with work so he wasn’t around much. But when he came home,” Dean admired the happiness in her eyes, “he would bring us out here and we’d go on these crazy hikes that always ended with a pot of soup and a good ghost story. I miss that soup,” she sipped her coffee appearing pensive.

“They sound like fun.”

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her face and offered him the flask again, the liquid still steaming, “fun and crazy. Dad was a history professor and mom, a teacher right here in Littleton. They kind of met at a teacher’s conference, which is so cliché and so dull to me. I mean, the two of them argued like _all_ the time about history. And I used to think that if this is what marriage is like, then hey I don’t want to _ever_ get married.”

“But…you’ve changed your mind?” Dean studied her face and instantly noticed the soft flush of color. “Geez, look at you. Is Charlie Bradbury in love?”

“Well, _no._ And maybe. Okay, probably. But it’s not like I’m pretty sure about it because I think there are two options.”

He could already pinpoint that Dorothy regrettably still resided in Charlie’s heart. “Well, you know what Johnny Depp said. If you’re in love with two people, choose the second one because if you were really in love with the first, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second.”

Charlie sighed, her red hair shining in the sunlight. “That makes sense. But like, how do you _know_ you’re in love?”

Dean raised his eyebrows and blinked, obviously clueless at that point in his life. “Dude, I thought you’re the expert. Not me. I don’t know a thing about love.”

“Yeah, well…” her words died down when no other than Crowley showed himself first by the top of his black hat followed by a swinging cane and a remarkable smile. “I swear, I’m not an expert either.”

Very soon, the three entertained an intense discussion on the satisfaction gained by the households that already received their hampers. The other ones were yet to be delivered in hopes of the same contentment and as soon as Dorothy gathered up the sufficient produce then Charlie and the rest of the church group would recommence packing the baskets.

“You look well as usual,” Crowley said after some time had passed with the rustle of leaves in the trees above them.

Dean, at first, believed that the comment was directed at his friend only to discover that the other man’s gaze rested on him. “Thanks. You know, considering the lack of exercise and binging on junk food.”

“Really? It hard shows.” The Deacon's gaze was so sudden and uncomfortable that the younger man’s insides clenched like a fist. “You are quite the attractive sort to never dull regardless.”

But then Charlie began to explain their new hobby most animatedly and very soon, the pair became too lost in the topic. She provided her photos already taken of the mountains and he commented on the beauty by a steady hand. Then after assessing Dean’s stills, Crowley declared that there were too many good ones to choose from and if it was no bother, he would like one printed to be hung in the rectory.

Of course, the news thrilled Charlie who immediately decided that she owned the privilege of delivering on that promise. And very soon, Dean discovered that the comfortableness in which the two confided in each other somewhat reminded him of the bond he shared with a very dear friend. The contagious laughter, the abundance of smiles, the bad jokes that both parties thought funny and the unbothered nearness.

“You there!” Castiel’s sudden appearance was far too much for Dean to conceal his happiness and marveling over the other man’s arrival, both of them laughed. “How goes it, you handsome fellow?”

“Right back at you and not so bad myself, thanks.”

Dressed in a khaki pants to match his trench coat and a crisp black shirt, Castiel’s tie was twisted backwards as always. And after showing only surprise from stumbling onto the trio lingering under the shade, he walked up in all smiles and delivered warm greetings with the exception of directing any at the Deacon.

In turn, Crowley took Charlie’s arm and gestured for them to admire the view from a different position, whilst Castiel who found the decision quite pleasing, drew nearer to Dean and chuckled.

“They are most _unsuited_.”

“Really?” Dean’s breathless tone coupled with his smile only signaled how much he was contented in his friend’s company. “Like me and you?” teasing came so naturally, asking the question didn’t trouble him.

The older man dipped his head and toed the grass. “How so? I find that we are quite inseparable.”

“As companions. You know, like chums but not as more as _they_ clearly are becoming.”

“Isn’t love supposed to be about…being with someone you share a profound bond with?” Castiel’s tone softened as his smile. “Contrary to popular belief, companions as best friends _do_ end up marrying and living happy lives together.”

“Yeah but you can’t just survive on happiness and contentment,” Dean diverted his eyes to pinpoint the pair moving further away. “Relationships and marriages last because of good sex, intimacy and carrying on the family line.”

Castiel sighed, following the younger man’s line of sight. “Dean, working as a couple together and finding immense comfort in each other’s love is much more prolonged than sex.”

“So, you’re saying that sex isn’t a big deal for you,” Dean smiled although his insides twitched from the thought of Castiel writhing in bed with a woman. Wait a minute! Where did _that_ originate from? He stopped smiling and stared back at the older man then swallowed hard, obviously trying to appear rather much composed than deeply affected.

“Sex with the right person is.”

“And the _right_ person is…” he was curious, just enough to feel completely comfortable about it instead of guilty about fishing.

The two of them glanced at each other, looked away, then returned to lock a gaze that suggested so much shyness on Castiel’s side that Dean evidently found interesting. He was concealing something, that much was certain and Dean couldn’t understand why he felt that he knew so little of his friend’s mind than what he thought.

“The right person,” Castiel said finally, after sighing, “exists. That is all I can admit and as sure as the weather about to change drastically.”

Very soon, snow would cover the entire Littleton but if estimations were correct, possibly till late December and early January. And whilst Dean thought of how nature could change and adapt to change, he wondered if he ever could. He wondered what life had in store for him and whether he needed to decide the outcome or fate would determine the choices.

Dean wanted to believe that he could defy fate and take the reins enough to ascertain a sense of control over things. If he ended up with someone that soured his future, then marriage could never be ideal. Instead, what he craved was exactly what Castiel lamented on; a lasting relationship of happiness and a sense of comfort. But he also was absolutely curious about what his non-existent sex life would look like in five years’ time or less.

Would he be waking up after a long night of passion beside someone who he loved intensely? Or would he have to settle for contentment in satisfying a physical need whilst dwindling on every other aspect of his marriage? And because these questions swirled around inside of his mind, Dean’s eyes wandered to Castiel, always concealed inside that awful trench coat and an abundance of long pants and long-sleeved shirts.

He realized that not once did he ever imagine what his friend looked like without perhaps three layers of clothing. If Dean could conclude that Castiel’s hands were perfect and his fingers graceful, then what would his thoughts be on the rest of him? Perhaps those layers kept tattoos in secrecy, or a toned body that would surprise him more than he bargained for. But he couldn’t ask because the question would be too suggestive and intrusive.

“You know, you’re not so bad looking, Cas,” Dean leaned onto the tree trunk and smiled despite his wandering mind and being completely aware of how alarming those thoughts were.

Blue eyes blinked at him and offered nothing but intrigue. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. And to what do I owe the compliment?”

“I was just thinking,” Dean sighed because he could never say something and be deprived of a further explanation. “You’re handsome and…” he shrugged, eyes focused on the grass, “…you’re single. So what the hell will happen to me? Huh?”

“I am single by choice,” Castiel said softly, hands behind his back. “Your problem is that you’ve long ago given up the need to familiarize yourself with women. There are plenty in Littleton. But it seems as if you would rather settle into your own comfort. You are most similar to me in that respect.”

“According to _them_ ,” Dean jerked his chin at the Winchester’s rooftop visible below the hill, “Ellen, Sam, dad, I can get any girl I want but you’re right, I just don’t find the chase so appealing anymore.”

“And that is fine. Give yourself time to settle enough. Love will come easily when it is most needed.”

Here they both were, delving into an area of discussion that was never broached before and the feeling of dipping into the depth of their bond was quite refreshing. Dean adored that he could have such an intimate discussion with the other man without gathering a sense of discomfort.

“Besides, love isn’t for me. My time is used up elsewhere,” Dean added after noting his best friend’s silence. “Which is why Charlie and I started this new hobby of taking pictures of things we love because we’re compiling a book. Quotes, poetry, bits of other stuff too. Cas, you even listening to me?”

Immediately, the other man tore his gaze away from the distant scenery and blinked at Dean. “Absolutely. A book with pictures and quotes. That’s lovely,” but his tone wavered and didn’t go unnoticed by his friend who stared back with worry. And there it was, the little waves rolling inside Castiel’s mind that Dean could never quite see because he was not privileged to…as yet.

“You okay? You look like your mind is a million miles away. Come back to me, man.”

“I’m here with you,” Castiel said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Always. Now, this,” he suddenly latched onto a burst of energy and stepped forward to gesture at the mountains, “is quite an addition to your book. I’d go as far as admitting that many may never wish to leave this town because of the beauty in their own backyard. I’ve travelled across this country Dean, and the White Mountains always remain my favorite. Most of all…”

Dean couldn’t help it, because stifling such a guilty opportunity would be anything but fleeting. He lifted his phone and focused the camera on the older man’s profile. The attractive features were too many for his camera to capture so he took a few of Castiel’s face as a chuckle filled the silence. When the other man laughed, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepened and just for a moment when the sunlight caught those blue eyes, it was like gazing into a world that was so beautiful and so serene.

“Pablo Neruda is exceptional,” Castiel continued after turning to consider Dean, who pretended to be scrolling but was absolutely focused on trying to take the perfect shot of the older man’s face and eyes. “And you should try Rupi Kaur. You might favor her highly. Also, Lang Leav might be more your cup of tea. Dean, it is rather rude to consider your phone as more important than me and the things that I am saying.”

“Am just checking Facebook,” he lied, cheeks flushing after returning to the Gallery and scrolling through the stills.

“Out here?” Castiel gestured around them wildly, “the router’s reach does not extend so far. And because you’re lying to me although I warn you constantly not to…” quickly closing the distance between them, he tried to snatch Dean’s mobile away. “Let me see what is so interesting on Facebook that you place me as second.”

“Dude, would you quit trying to get into my phone? Cas!”

Even though his grasp on the device was firm, Castiel wound his arms around Dean and tugged him in. The scent of Old Spice was stronger and refreshing to the younger man. And because they were facing each other and their lips inches apart, Dean became too distracted to maintain his grasp so the phone was easily snatched away. But before returning to delving into the mobile, Castiel’s chest heaved as he considered the younger man pressed into the tree trunk and absolutely staring at him wide eyed before he stepped away and blinked slowly.

“Taking pictures of me, are you?” he kept swiping and smiled warmly as the phone was returned to. “To add to your book?”

Dean leaned onto the trunk of the tree and displayed how dissatisfied he was by the intrusion by scowling deeply. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Still admiring the photos, those blue eyes mellowed. “These shots are so intimate,” Castiel said softly, completely mesmerized. “One might ascertain that you have a crush on me.”

“Shut up,” Dean returned, obviously still discontented and blushing despite his awareness. “I’d never have a crush on you because you can’t respect personal space and property.”

When Castiel’s laughter came afterwards, green eyes rolled up to the trees and in that moment, he discovered that his friend kept swiping and very soon he would come across…

“Vanity is quite understood in your situation,” the older man stared at the phone in disbelief. “This is…too much. I never thought that I’d see you shirtless and looking quite—”

“I’ll kick your ass if you continue,” Dean’s cheeks colored so much, he was too ashamed and therefore, gathering his wits, he sprinted after Castiel. “Give me my phone back!”

“What a snack to behold. Yummy,” blue eyes sparkled after the older man kept twirling around just enough to avoid the mobile from being snatched. “Might I show these to the cannibals in the mountains?”

Dean however, was far too red to appear anything but deeply affected by the compliments that he stopped trying to collect the phone and stood there. Chest heaving, his gaze penetrated enough to suggest a kind of discomfort from being so exposed in the photos. And certainly he had every right to feel as such, because the last person he expected to cast a glance on those was the very person standing a few inches away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel suddenly said as the smile dulled on his face, “here you go,” he handed over the phone and appeared disappointed in his actions. “I should not have behaved so reckless because you are obviously…wounded.”

After Dean collected the mobile and tucked it into his pants pocket, he sighed because indeed he was very much bruised by becoming so exposed but it wasn’t Castiel’s fault. They were playful, joked around many times and what was so different about this apart from coming to terms with his best friend seeing him half naked? He wasn’t a young boy anymore, that much was obvious and now there he was feeling entirely self-conscious when he shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as if Castiel was a woman who shouldn’t be allowed the chance to see him in such a manner.

“It’s fine, man,” Dean tried to pass the shame off by laughing a little, “just don’t feel so good about my body enough to boast about it. You know, call it low self-esteem and all. But it’s just the way it goes.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious,” Castiel stared back in awe as if the most shocking words had escaped the younger man’s lips. “By a long stretch, you are far too attractive to even feel unworthy of boasting. Coming from me, that should suffice as enough to convince you of your worth. You are quite aware that I would never lie.”

“Yeah, but you’re a guy,” Dean pointed out the obvious and frowning, he shrugged, “I’m more concerned about girls who would look at me and think that I’m not that toned like the guys they see in magazines or on tv. You know how it is, man.”

“No, I really _don’t_ know how it is,” Castiel said softly, never diverting his gaze but also frowning. “If I was a woman, as you prefer that, then I would maintain the same judgment on your character because unlike the women who would wish to be with a man who is…as you may call chiseled, I’d want to be with a man who possesses far more attractive qualities that you already do. A wealth of knowledge, for instance,” the older man gestured at Dean and offered a small smile. “Intelligence is very appealing and you have an abundance of that, as well as wit and humor and humility.”

His heart melted in so many ways that Dean could only bite his lips and gaze back as he was complimented in so many ways that were far too undeserving. Leave it to Castiel to render him speechless, because he understood him, was familiar with him more than anyone even his closest kin could ever be. There were times when Dean really believed that he could never be as appreciated as he was by anyone else except the man standing before him, and he oftentimes wondered if there would ever come a time when someone else would prove as worthy.

“Thanks, Cas,” was all he could manage in a hoarsened tone that sounded rather unlike himself. Then knowing not what to do except to gaze into blue eyes, Dean detached himself from the trunk of the tree and sighed as he walked to the edge of the cliff and studied the mountains carefully.

“I said too much, didn’t I?” the older man finally managed to ask from behind.

“Nah,” Dean honestly wondered if Castiel was of the opposite sex, if he really would see him in a different light. Maybe, he would, maybe he wouldn’t but one thing was obvious. “You’ve said enough to make me feel like the most amazing person in the world because at least…I mean the world to you. And I love you so much for that.”

He never did see the tears that filled those blue eyes, nor did he ever witness the slight tremor in Castiel’s hands as he lifted them and concealed parted lips. But what Dean was sure of was that he would risk his life for the man standing behind him, in a heartbeat he would give up everything. And because he was so certain of that, the kind of commitment that very few people would ever feel, he understood what poets meant when they cried about the depth of love. With Castiel love wasn’t shallow; love was deeper than anything Dean had ever felt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Excerpt:**

_“Here is the list of 2019-2020 Most Compatible Signs,” Castiel said softly, staring at the magazine with widened eyes._

_Dean groaned. “You know, I don’t believe in that crap. It’s too cliché.”_

_The older man sighed although green eyes rested on the words printed on the page and he wished not to divulge the findings. “Funnily though, they’ve matched us together. Aquarius with Scorpio. Do you share the same sentiments still?”_

_“Give me the damn magazine,” Dean snatched it and chucked it onto the bedside table with a deep scowl. “So much for light reading before bed.”_

* * *

Charlie’s photo of the White Mountains was, as promised, printed and framed with the main intent of delivering on her promise.

The gift proved to be quite an exceptional one containing the likes of a piece from an art gallery that could be worth a fortune. But her harsh criticism prolonged the time spent at the photo study to more than half an hour because she couldn’t choose the perfect one. And even though Dean remarked that all fifteen shots were ideal, therefore choosing one would most definitely suffice, his friend frowned over the whole matter and disagreed.

It wasn’t just any ordinary decision, Charlie lamented in front of the employee awaiting their choice patiently. This piece would be presented in the rectory for anyone to cast their eyes on upon entering Crowley’s humble abode. So, if there was just a smudge or a speck of impurity caught in the image, then it would be far below satisfactory. And so, she ended up settling on the fourth picture that equally matched the likeness of the rest in Dean’s opinion.

Nevertheless, he willingly accompanied her to present the item requested to the short man, knowing fully that she would never accomplish the deed alone. And because his companionship required removing himself from the house on a dark overcast day, Dean’s anxiety tingled a little from something daunting looming in the distance.

The two of them after stupidly deciding on walking, entered the church yard at precisely 2pm on a Thursday afternoon, following the Sunday spent gazing at the mountains. Now, although he could have been spending his day occupied by a generous amount of reading to prep for exams in less than a week, when a friend required his assistance, he willingly complied.

Crowley ushered them in with a cheerful disposition and from the moment Charlie presented him with the frame, the priest hoisted it up and gazed at the mountains with immense admiration. Dean on the other hand drifted towards a statue of Jesus kneeling at Mary’s feet in the corner of the foyer and in awe, he caressed the beads of the Rosary hanging from her neck.

“A man who pays attention to details,” Crowley wandered over with Charlie in tow. “This statue has been here for over one hundred years. I fear that if I move it, the whole place might come crashing down.”

Laughing, Dean straightened up and their shoulders brushed.

“Easy there,” the priest comfortably rested his palm on the younger man’s back and maintained the picture-perfect smile. “You are too good looking to lose your balance.”

The comment was lightly accepted by Charlie who smiled and braved her entry into the depths of the rectory, but to Dean the words were too suggestive. Perhaps too out of character for a man like Crowley who seemed to find it necessary in complimenting Dean on two occasions; firstly on Sunday and now. But the worst part of all was the prolonged gaze that deliberately challenged to disarm him. And slightly uncomfortable but returning a smile, Dean slipped past the older man and followed his friend.

Charlie spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing every little amazing detail about the priest’s abode with enthusiasm to match anyone’s first visit. However, the confinements of the rectory proved to be too dull for Dean’s tastes with dark toned walls, lamps and a lack of furniture. Then again, a man of the cloth needed far less than anything extravagant so evidently the absence of a television and other ideal objects could be understood.

Then things turned a little too weird to consider as normal when Charlie inquired after Crowley’s cell number for updates about the orphanage and the older man obliged but turned to Dean.

“Maybe you should collect my cell,” he suggested openly. “Give me a ring sometime to talk about joining the choir again.”

A prickly feeling nestled in Dean’s gut but he ignored it because there was no definition on the suspicion to add enough substance. “I know dad has the landline pinned to the wall by the phone. So, I know what to dial when I need to.”

“I insist,” Crowley still smiled. “A chat wouldn’t hurt. Think of it as a padre assisting a young man to make a decision.”

Dean’s cool green eyes stared back and he smiled sweetly, clearly unnerved at that point. What on earth could they chat about that was clearly intriguing the other man to plead so much?

“How about I save yours,” Dean never liked to be backed into a corner, “and I’ll call you if the need arises, huh?”

Crowley waited two seconds and then sighed. “As you wish. But don’t allow your faith to dwindle enough to become less interested in church activities. Like the good old days, let it shine.”

Blinking, Dean pressed his lips together and then flicked his glance at Charlie. She nervously laughed and slapped the table. “Oh, that’s a good catchy tune. We sing it all the time with the kids.”

The rest of two hours consisted of topics ranging from books to travel and constantly, Crowley turned the conversation from Charlie to Dean. With his interest piqued, the older man behaved as if seeking information from Dean was necessary enough to perhaps develop a better understanding of his character. Added to that, his eyes shone with the kind of curiosity that unnerved the younger man to a point where he needed to excuse himself to use the bathroom.

Returning, the same behavior continued until Charlie softened and chin cupped upon her palm, she gazed at the two of them trying to discuss the consequences of remaining in Littleton.

“It’s not so bad if you wish to remain settled enough to blossom,” Crowley provided, “think of all the dangers out there. In the world. Dangerous crowds of people ready to sink their fangs into your pure, innocent little heart. That would be sinful, wouldn’t it? Being hoarded by all the bad influences.”

“My brother moved and he doesn’t seem so bad,” Dean decided that his uneasy feeling was probably fueled by a slight irritation brought on by a headache. “Turns out Sam flourishes out there in New York. But my reasons to stay here would be my own. I don’t want to leave dad.”

“A young man who treasures familial bond,” Crowley turned to Charlie and smiled. “Very admirable. I suggest that you cling to that and remain right here. After all, John couldn’t survive the embarrassment of his perfect eldest son making the decision to migrate.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m perfect,” shrugging, the younger man scratched the back of his neck.

“But you are. Here’s what, as soon as you graduate, come to Father Crowley for guidance. I know a few people who know a few people. Who can pitch in a word or two to pull some strings… What kind of job are you interested in?”

“Teaching mostly.”

“I know the head teacher of every school in the district. Mrs. Norris always has an open spot. So, you wouldn’t need to look further. Think of it as my gracious gift to you. One of many.”

Dean, in the process of sipping on some lemonade, almost choked but his small cough was overridden with Charlie’s glee on the priest’s willing assistance. Then after providing that she wanted to become a fashion designer or delve into Computer Science, the two of them consumed the rest of the afternoon with nothing but debates on what was modest and extra vulgar to wear in public.

Very soon though, the sky burst with the promised rains and the windows clouded for quite a while. Thunder accompanied the streaks of lightening, and although Dean seldom contributed to the conversation, he only wished for the weather to settle enough so that they could leave.

There was nothing worse than feeling trapped in someone else’s premises when one was not comfortable being there in the first place. Somehow though, Charlie clung to the belief that the rectory was quite cozy enough to spend the rest of the day and Dean decided that he was given no choice but to stay further.

For this reason, the irritation worsened and so did the migraine, which he realized were both creeping up much frequently than prior years. Back when he wasn’t privy to changes like scrutinizing people’s words far too much. Crowley was beginning to trouble Dean in a way that he simply could not describe or wish not to admit the blaring truth. Either way, the man’s words were far too strange and unearthed an itchy feeling that he could not scratch.

Thus, the decision to seclude himself from the pair that remained seated by the table near the window proved less intimidating and very soon, Dean relaxed into a copy of the newspapers.

The rain though, continued outside, lashing upon Littleton and delivering a chill that trembled his fingers and chattered his teeth. And just when Dean decided to check his phone for the time, he realized that the battery waned to five percent and it was almost six.

Immediately he roused Charlie and after slipping on their coats, the two of them bundled under the umbrella and sidestepped puddles.

But the winds were enough to sweep a generous amount of rain onto both of them without reaching halfway to the orphanage and although his friend urged him to stop under the shed of a store to wait out the downpour, Dean was too determined to get home. In fact, his persistence seemed to match the weather’s decision to ravish the town and very soon, both of them were drenched to the skin before reaching the gates of Saint Anne’s.

From there, Charlie raced inside believing that she was accompanied, only to turn back and stare through the haze of the rain at Dean’s denim jacket blurring into the street.

Unfortunately, he somehow lost his way after making one wrong turn from Main Street and because his head was pounding by then from the confusion of pinpointing exactly where he was, Dean stopped. He stumbled onto the sidewalk and under the shed of a building which looked unlike any he ever cast eyes on, there he remained breathless.

It was remarkable how night seemed to become more pronounced during a thunderstorm. Usually, the darkness enveloped the town after six thirty but as Dean hugged himself and trembled, the afternoon disappeared instantly. The streetlamps flickered on but were hazy and provided too little guidance even if he wished to continue finding his way home. And by then, his phone died, leaving him with no other option but to await the rains to ease its persistence in washing the streets clean.

He wasn’t quite sure when the chill in his bones brought on a dizzying feeling, enough to force him into a stooping position. But by then, Dean was terrified, the thought of taking the path through the forest in the dark too dangerous to even stomach.

For one thing, he could remember two times when the experience was dreadful and wished not to relive any with the addition of rain.

Despite his belief that no one would come looking for him, and after his vision pinched with darkness from fainting, the sound of a car’s screeching tires kept him conscious. Barely though, he registered the door flying open, the feel of strong arms hoisting him up and because he was barely there, Dean sunk into a cold blank dream of nothing for a while.

Someone kept calling his name in a pleading tone though, a familiar voice that very soon registered as Castiel’s gravelly voice. As a result, he barely opened his eyes and gazed into blue ones an inch away and immediately, Dean felt like he was home already.

He was contained in a hug so comforting, both arms wrapped around his trembling body and it was so glorious to realize that he could be saved. It was sufficient enough to anchor his fragile mind on the fearful and anxious turn of events that afternoon. Nothing else mattered at that point than to turn to the one person who meant the world to him. And Castiel bundled him into a thick coat that was so soft and warm, it was remarkable how someone’s love could be soothing.

“I was so worried about you,” the older man’s tone reflected the burden of sadness after constantly adjusting the fabric around Dean’s body. “Don’t you ever do that again. What happened to your phone?”

“Dead. Didn’t realize.” He was so weak already and his head pounded from the pressure of not knowing for certain what was going to happen to him if he ended up becoming unconscious out there.

“Dean,” blue eyes widened but never quite offered any look of judgment, “why on earth would you go out in a weather like this? Hmm?” Castiel cupped the other man’s chin into his hand and gazed back with so much worry. “You saw that a thunderstorm was brewing since lunch. How could you be so reckless—"

“Don’t yell at me, okay?” Dean croaked and squeezed his eyes shut. “My head’s killing me, man. I just feel like I’m about to explode.”

“Of course,” Castiel sighed and lightly caressed the other man’s left shoulder, his touch so tender. “Forgive me. I am still recovering from the shock of searching for you. Your father was so worried when you didn’t show up for dinner, and when we realized you weren’t in your room, the two of us separated in cars to find you. Thankfully, I did first or else you wouldn’t be so softly scolded by John.”

When Dean further explained that he preferred staying home but couldn’t leave Charlie to conduct the visit on her own, Castiel’s anger showed instantly. His dislike for Crowley couldn’t simmer down and although Dean wondered after the origin that fueled the fire, he respected the suspicions after experiencing an unsettled feeling during their engagements. Had he elaborated on those moments, then a fit would most certainly follow, so naturally Dean groaned and sunk into the other man’s comforting shoulder.

Instantly though, the warmth intensified between them like a winter coat when Castiel snaked an arm around him. And because he was so captivated by intrigue to discover so much more, he settled into his best friend’s shelter and sighed.

It was so reminiscent of being inside his blanket at home, curled up and warmed by the comfort. Dean melted into the embrace in seconds and after burying his face into the older man's neck, and drowning from the soft scent of Old Spice, pineapples and apples, the coldness drifted away completely. His headache dulled behind his temples and the world around him disappeared when Castiel’s arms tightened into a comforting shell. And no matter the magnitude of the discomfort of shivering that still consumed him, he was far too contented by remaining just where he was in that moment.

“Cas,” Dean suddenly whispered so softly, the rain drowned away his voice. But no matter how he tried to form a sentence to keep the conversation going, nothing happened.

“Shh,” Castiel pressed a chaste kiss onto dark blonde hair and his warm lips remained there, “I know, Dean. You’re going to be alright. Stay with me and listen to my voice. We’re almost there. Do you…” his voice dipped too low as he continued to lightly caress the other man's arm, “do you remember when you were little, almost five. And you asked me where babies came from?”

Dean turned his head a little and could feel a pulse beating softly against his lips through the fabric of Castiel's shirt. “Don’t go there.”

“I told you,” the older man’s voice became too gravelly and rumbled inside his chest, “that they were grown on trees. And _you_ actually kept searching the entire town for baby growing trees. It was so funny to tease you. Dean I…” Castiel rested his chin on the younger man’s head and smiled as the car nosed its way through the rain, “I have grown to adore you so much over the years. Your companionship means so much to me that I cannot ever live without it.”

“Sure,” Dean was drifting into a deep sleep that was too comfortable to avoid. The slow beat of Castiel’s heart was too reassuring like a lullaby, soothing and like a sedative that pulled him deeper into a beautiful, peaceful mood. “Huggy bear.”

The older man’s breath hitched a little, and he captured the bundle in his arms tighter as if fearing that he would lose what mattered most to him. “You are quite unwell now and here I am rambling on about nonsense that will never come to pass. It’s just that when I feared losing you tonight, realization kicked in and it is these small affairs of the heart that pressure me to cling to my sanity.”

Dean was dreaming of drowning inside of his blanket, on his bed and barely, he pressed a kiss onto Castiel’s neck. It was done without thinking, of course, impulsive and very lingering. Feeling the warmth beneath his lips was so intoxicating that he longed to taste that kind of energy over and over again but instead, all he could manage was to stay as close as he could manage. “Stop worrying so much. I’m glad you found me.”

"I'll always find you, Dean…" Castiel's voice became distant, and the world faded. "I will never ever let you go."

"Don't ever let…me…go." And then Dean drifted into a deep sleep that was too blissful to awaken from.

* * *

The sharp knocks came out of nowhere through the blackness that drowned him, causing Dean to barely stir at first because of how heavy his head felt. He was covered inside of a tomb, was what the weight felt like, almost close to suffocating and dying. Then when his position on the bed revealed that he was alone, twisted between the sheets and painfully hard inside of his pants, he gasped.

“Shit,” fumbling for the blanket, Dean bunched it around his waist and immediately discovered that in addition to waking up severely aroused, the rest of his body ached like he had been run over by a freight train. “Son of a bitch,” he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “What the fuck.”

Dreams usually brought on such a reaction; dreams centered on Jennifer Aniston or Hailee Steinfeld. But no matter how much he tried to recollect, Dean could not recall which woman captivated his mind enough to create the evident problem inside of his pants. All he could determine was the stifling darkness that always drifted to cover him up whenever he was about to be ravished by the flu. And at no time was one of those warning symptoms a full length problem which was occurring inside of his pants.

Slowly, someone pushed open the door and it was no other than Charlie closely followed by Ellen. And in that moment, he felt wasted away so much that the actuality of having two women come into a dreadful sight of what remained between his legs would have been the most embarrassing moment of all.

“He’s decent,” Charlie assured Ellen before tumbling into the room. “At least he sleeps with a shirt. Which is so smart considering the weather, you know?” she turned to the older woman who immediately sensed from Dean’s groans that something was terribly wrong.

“Honey?” Ellen approached the bed and rested the back of her hand on his forehead. “Damn, you’re hot as a fire. Charlie, run down to the kitchen, fill a basin with water and bring it up with a towel. You’ll find one under the microwave. Come on, you baby.” She lowered herself onto the bed and gently eased Dean’s head up just enough to adjust the pillows. “Seems like you went out and brought home a bad cold.”

When she attempted to adjust the blanket though, he snatched her hand and squeaked for obvious reasons, then after something passed between them, Ellen actually stared back with a wide grin. Always, the older woman could decipher the truth and there was no situation she couldn’t handle well enough. If there were two persons who could read Dean like the back of their hand, it was her and his best friend who rescued him the night prior.

“Just don’t,” he turned away from her glorious stare. “Okay? Just stop being so damn good at getting into my head and pretend nothing’s happening.”

“Oh _something's_ happening. For who though?” she laughed and glanced at the door, equally aware of his pride. “Is it Charlie or –”

“God, no,” Dean scowled and stiffened up from the suggestion. “And what is it with people assuming that we’re more than friends? She’s more like the sister I never had.”

“Alright, so what’s brought on _this_ ,” gesturing at the blanket pooled around his waist, her hand was slapped away. “I know that every damn time you’re about to get sick, some bad nightmares catch you. But apparently this ain’t bad after all. Who’s the lucky girl, huh? And don’t,” she suddenly scowled, “tell me that it’s Jo. No way in hell I’m going to allow you two to go there. Plenty hurt and no good coming out of that.”

“It’s not her.” Groaning from the terrible aches all over, Dean didn’t want to dwell on the matter. But then again, Ellen knew so much about him already.

“Well it’s someone,” she smiled widely and wouldn’t stop trying to pry into his mind. “If it ain’t Charlie or Jo, then it got to be somebody else. Minds are strange, is all. Takes any little guilty thing we try to bury and runs with it. Before we know it, we’re screwed.”

“Yeah, well there’s the problem,” Dean croaked because his throat felt raw and painful and constricted, “I don’t feel guilty about anything to my knowledge and there’s no one right now who would make me…get like this.”

"Really? There is no one… absolutely no one you know right now that could get a rise out of you…"

He studied her intrigued expression, raised eyebrows and frowned deeply. "No, come on. There's not a soul."

Now, when Charlie returned to the room, Dean found the young woman’s cheerful presence to be more enlightening than ever before. Ellen on the other hand, soothed his fever away as best as she could and left to retrieve some medication from the cabinet downstairs.

Collecting her photo book from the pink satchel, Charlie avoided his protests about being contagious and settled on the bed next to him. From there, the two of them assessed the very neat scrawls of her quotes that mainly focused on love but there was an underlying theme which piqued Dean’s interests.

Charlie’s entire photo book seemed to suggest that she believed entirely in soul mates meeting. The substance of her quotes was mostly about fitting two people together that deserved each other. The act of having barriers between two souls that prevented them from meeting on the same page was examined. And her entire book thus far kept telling a story which proved to be quite effective in pulling Dean into a very thoughtful mood.

He wondered about the inspiration behind the theme, and if she would prove to be quite the matchmaker herself.

However, after he dragged himself into a hot shower and collapsed on the bed again, John came up to assess his situation, bringing some pills and Gatorade. The latter was always his father’s coping medicine whenever a cold attempted to devastate him. It was the gold elixir that pushed him through stressful days. And when Dean took the Theraflu and settled in between an abundance of blankets tucked around him by his non-biological sister, the rains came again. The sky outside darkened and very soon, after eating a toast and some jam, he settled into a deep sleep that promised no dreams but a comfortable blackness.

Dean couldn’t conceal anything from Charlie’s wandering eyes though, and after he lapsed on leaving his photo book peeking out from the under the pillow, she pulled it out. Snorting from the simple decoration of the cover remaining as plain as ever with Dean’s name scrawled in front, the rest of the pages proved to contain too much evidence.

Charlie’s heart melted when the first page contained a quote that contradicted what the rest of the book offered.

_I’ve never been in love._

_I’ve dreamt of it day and night,_

_But my heart is like a fine piano_

_No one can play_

_Because the key is lost._

Anton Chekhov

“Oh, you soft, special human,” she caressed the light tendrils resting on her friend’s forehead and he sighed, nuzzling his face into the blue pillow.

Flipping the pages proved to play with her heartstrings in ways that Charlie never thought she would experience outside of a romance book. The first two pages briefed her enough to become fully equipped with the whole Lisa and Jo ordeal; the peer pressure that arose from being quite a handsome teenager who lacked a real relationship. And because his friends were all in love and wondered about his lack of hookups, Dean crashed into Lisa Braeden and tried to compensate for the guilt he felt by showering her with love that caused him more pain than happiness.

He was the kind of teenager that, after being raised to respect and love a woman, delivered the same generosity onto a young woman who obviously based their relationship on proof of snatching the most attractive boy in high school. Yet, whilst she was anxious to learn to need him with the same depth Dean craved for someone to care, the two of them weren’t in love. They stayed together for almost close to two years and ended so easily, the breakup didn’t cause any kind of tragedy.

Jo, on the other hand, was the kind of free-spirit that chased whatever she needed and after latching her attention on Dean, whilst he thought of her as a friend, she forced him to love again. However, her pleas and actions could never satisfy the kind of love he wanted because Dean’s description of love proved to be something that many people took for granted.

_I wanted someone to look inside me and know that I have more to offer than what’s seen on the outside. And she only relied on everything physical whilst I couldn’t keep up enough to reach her on that level. Is it too much to ask for someone who wants to love my soul?_

Charlie flipped the page and was instantly confronted with two full pages of smiling faces of his father, mother, brother whom she never had the fortune of meeting as yet, Jessica; Sam’s wife, Ellen, Jody and Donna, even a photo of her, feet folded on the floor and perusing a book.

When she turned the page, Charlie couldn’t believe what was right there to be scrutinized, well she admitted that the truth was already obvious. But the heading of the next section of Dean’s photo book proved to be the most romantic thing she ever witnessed, and tears clouded her eyes.

_My Guardian Angel; Castiel_

_Mom always told me that angels were watching over me, and I think she was talking about him._

_If I could rewind time and relive my life enough to make different decisions, I would never change anything about my love for my best friend. He’s proven to me that someone exists for all of us who cares without boundaries, who corrects without pain and sorrow._

But before she could even turn the page, something strange caught her attention that was tucked inside the book. It was barely peeping out but visibly there and so she tugged out a photo that melted her heart even further.

There was a family photo beginning from the left with Sam, Ellen, John, Dean, Castiel, Jody and Donna. From the looks of her friend’s face, she ascertained that he could be around the age of sixteen, smiling bright, arm wrapped around his best friend whose head leant onto him with the most loving expression ever.

The pages that followed contained beautiful captures of Castiel’s profile, ranging from the background of the mountains to him crossing the moor. Leaning against the mantle, arms folded and smiling, the selfie with him and Dean inside the car. The beauty in the stills were enough to convince her that something needed to be done in order to get the two of them together. And she was prepared to dedicate all her spare time towards opening the pair up to all honesty, but subtly, without them ever suspecting her intrusion.

By the time Charlie finished with the book and wandered downstairs, she stumbled into no other than the very same man whose likeness was contained in the photos. And with the same charm and happiness in greeting, Castiel gestured for Charlie to sit with him in front of the fire as the rains poured and thunder rocked the sky above them.

“I came as soon as I heard,” his cheeks were flushed too much and she wondered why because coming in from the cold shouldn’t have that effect. “How bad is it?”

Charlie sighed and shrugged. “Definitely the blasted flu judging from the symptoms. You know, it’s not because of yesterday at all. He obviously caught it from someone and I can’t think who it is because Dean hardly leaves the house.”

“It could be from the workshop. A variety of personalities pass through here to drop off their cars and it could be one of them that brought it in. Transferred of course into the house by John or Bobby. But I dare say, I’m worried.”

“If you weren’t worried, then I’d have to ditch you as a friend,” she said scrunching up her face but still smiling at his very neat attire that always reflected what a gentleman he was.

“Apart from my obvious feelings as any friend would experience,” Castiel returned the smile bashfully, “Dean has been ravished by pneumonia in the past and we almost lost him. Yes, yes,” he observed her look of disbelief. “Of course, he cannot recall the severity of the situation because he was unconscious. But Dean was in the hospital for two weeks of which I lost a considerable amount of weight and sanity. When he recovered, he wasn’t the same again, developing a phobia from being outdoors although he will not admit it. Also, after that, he became less energetic and much more in love with being in the house.”

“Which is why he’s attending university online. Crap,” Charlie stared into the fire and digested the bit of news. “No wonder when I asked him to go with me to the church, he looked itchy about it. I can’t help but blame everything on me because I was the one who dragged him out there. And look what happened.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Castiel rested his hand upon hers and squeezed, offering a soft look, “the turn of events wasn’t entirely your fault. Constantly I ask Dean to charge his phone before leaving the house. Constantly,” Castiel frowned at the carpeted floor which was now covered in a maroon color quite unlike the earlier chocolate brown. “Also, the weather was too bad for a walk so he should have taken the car. But I fear that driving in such a downpour would have been even more detrimental than walking through it. Is he sleeping?”

“Knocked out by Theraflu,” Charlie seemed puzzled, “which is strange since it’s supposed to be _non-drowsy_. I guess he’s just too fatigued from yesterday.”

“Is he sneezing, coughing?” Castiel’s concern would never fade away as blue eyes widened. “Does he have a fever and how severe is it?”

She tried hard to avoid smiling because his evident love and adoration for her friend upstairs was very admirable. “Dude, relax before you strain your heart too much,” punching him on the arm playfully, Charlie chuckled. “He’s got a fever, headache and mild cold with sore throat. But you know that Dean’s a fighter.”

“I know he is,” Castiel sighed and his gaze lowered to a brown paper bag. Pushing his hand inside, he tugged out a bottle of peppermint oil, Vicks and a donut pillow. “I just thought that…well.”

“You are so adorbs!” Charlie couldn’t contain her admiration any longer and she literally squealed. “If you two were in a television show, I’d definitely ship it so hard. Like, majorly. Cas, you’re so special to Dean. The way you care about him and love him; I don’t think anyone else matches what you do.”

“I’ve loved him for a considerable amount of years, Charlie,” Castiel swallowed and blinked at her with a kind of secrecy behind those blue eyes, almost like a curtain was drawn. “He means the world to me.”

“I can tell that he does…” she settled into the chair and winked, wishing nothing more than to discover the truth behind his admiration. And once someone was in love, their speeches on the other individual tended to form quite an intimate image. “It’s so amazing to like find two dudes who are so close to each other. I mean, yeah you find that kind of friendship everywhere but with you and Dean, it’s different. It’s like you are far more than friends. Like…soul mates.”

“I would believe that we are,” Castiel provided in a warming tone, his speech slow at first because of being hesitant to express himself. “My job just gets so hectic during this part of the year that there isn’t much time left to spend with him. I’m afraid that while he most needs me, I am occupied with other people’s finances.”

“Dude, you need to start using your phone because the two of you can talk even when you can’t come over; thoughts that you can easily put into typing instead of saying them…”

“Rather much sounds like an approach I would not like to take because I prefer to speak in all honesty face to face.”

Charlie sighed because it was so difficult to read Castiel, just as Dean promised, the man clearly built walls thick enough to conceal many things. And so far, her careful scrutiny felt more like prodding at concrete with a toothpick. There were people like that, who decided to divulge as little as possible in fear of being judged. But in Castiel’s situation, Charlie decided that he simply wished to keep his personal feelings to himself because he wished to remain a man of mystery.

Before he left to prepare for dinner, Castiel tucked the paper bag into a cabinet below the telephone and hoped that he would be presented with a chance of delivering it to Dean after returning.

The younger man who was the main topic of discussion for most of the afternoon between his two trusted friends, lightly stirred at half past four. Hungry, in dire need of more medication to ease the pain and completely miserable, Dean spent two minutes in the shower before collapsing on his bed again. He despised his own company when ill, and Charlie’s note taped to the wardrobe saddened him because he missed her presence.

_Got to leave because duty calls, but have no fear, your little sister will make everything peachy._

Easy for her to believe in any kind of hope at that point because he felt like a bird after flying into a window.

His brain was turned upside down from the flu and nothing made sense anymore apart from the physical aspects of his room. Books that were neatly packed on the shelves, posters of Queen, ACDC, Taylor Swift, Journey; everything in his life suddenly seemed so confusing because of his varying tastes that Dean wondered if he was on the precipice of discovering himself.

After spending a considerable amount of time trying to find that sense of stability over the years, maybe now he was transforming into an adult instead of a teenager riding on the next new thrill. Why? Because the thirst to seek out new things dulled just enough to focus on the bigger picture; finding comfort in one’s own company, focusing on self-love and self-care and an abundance of contentment in building friendships to last.

He had long ago forgone of people that didn’t really establish a sense of permanency in his life; friends that came in and drifted away like leaves. Now, there were very few that he could count on one hand, and family that mattered more than anything else. Apart from those kinds of bonds, Dean realized that he was spending more time trying to achieve a tranquility which was never sought out before; like taking walks around the moor between classes and absorbing the music of nature. Spreading a soft blanket among the tall blades of grass under the shade of a tree and immersing himself in a book whilst the wind played songs around him.

Now after lying in bed and growing quite irritated from not being able to do the things he always liked to, Dean was growing quite moody.

His father assured him that with Ellen, Bobby and Castiel, he was well taken care of with company to pass the evening. Therefore, after insisting that his son remain upstairs with the main intent of resting and isolating the flu inside the bedroom, John returned downstairs.

Dean wasn’t prepared to face anyone in such a miserable condition though. When he fell ill, there were certain embarrassing qualities that weren’t too pleasing to anyone, well according to him, that is. He became soft and yearned for love, somebody to hold him with an abundance of comfort and those things he was quite ashamed of for many years.

But Ellen would have disagreed immensely because tending to Dean was always her first priority. Therefore, she was there for the entire day at the Winchester’s house hanging around outside in the workshop and returning inside with the main purpose of keeping his medication schedule in order.

After six, a pot of soup swept the house in delicious smells enough to rouse the two men from the workshop and placing a generous amount into a ceramic bowl, Ellen prepared a tray containing a glass of water, Theraflu, and Vitamin C. And with a plan laid out in her mind, quite aligned with Charlie’s, the older woman awaited the arrival of her dear friend.

At precisely six thirty, Castiel passed through the front door, collected the paper bag from beneath the phone and after John announced that his presence was needed in the kitchen, curiously he proceeded to that direction of the house. He was refreshed after a long shower, dark hair disheveled as always and dressed in a warm brown shirt with khaki pants. There was no tie that evening, but two buttons undone and finely polished shoes.

“Come on, you,” Ellen was washing up the wares and prepping for the very small dinner party, “take this up for you and your husband.” She gestured at the green plastic tray containing two bowls of soup and medication.

“Forgive me, but my… _what_?” Castiel stared back in disbelief, rooted by the sink and terribly warmed from the fire blazing in the living room.

"You know _what_ ," the twinkle in her eyes was quite evident. "Don't get smart with me of all people. You think I've been struck blind these past years? Look at me and tell me I'm talking nonsense."

The two of them stared at each other until the air between them grew quite intense with the dawning truth. Friends, very good ones for many years and still proceeding to last for a long time; they were always confidantes. And if there was one truth between them that felt very heavy between their conversations, it was the abundance of love that consumed those blue eyes every so often.

“We’ll spare your company tonight because you’ll be more cheerful upstairs than with us. Go on.” She shooed him with the yellow sponge covered in suds. “Don’t stand there wasting time. Get on with it.”

After he left, Ellen bent over the sink and chuckled to herself because although Castiel looked severely affected from the terms she used to describe the younger man, he also colored immensely.

Now Dean was _not_ expecting the arrival of the older man and tucking into bed with the copy of Seventeen, he was just contemplating on where to paste the full-page photo of Taylor Swift when soft knocks sounded on the door.

“I’m decent, Charlie!” he called out, smiling and returning to flipping the pages. He could do with some company, especially if she returned to spend the night because their sleepovers were filled with less sleep and lots of conversations.

When Castiel came into the room without a sound though, green eyes widened from the sudden arrival of his best friend. And stiffening in bed, the soft caramel colored blanket pooled around his waist and concealing his legs, Dean instantly felt immensely awful.

“No,” he collected a pillow and planted it upon his face, groaning from disdain, “Dammit, Cas, go away. I look horrible. You can’t see me like this.”

“Oh, stop it,” Castiel proceeded anyway, his soft footfalls upon the carpeted room too soothing to his friend’s woes. “You’ve never looked horrible in your life. Good evening, green eyes.”

“Man,” Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position after discarding the pillow and revealing his pasty complexion. Then after running fingers through his disheveled hair, he admired the other man carefully resting the tray onto the bedside table. “Good night. You going to eat up here with me?”

“Why not?”

“But dad…”

“He’s accommodated by the likes of Ellen and Bobby. My absence wouldn’t be so severe. I see you’ve finally managed to secure a copy of the magazine.” Castiel rose up and placed the tray on the younger man’s lap with the smallest of smiles. “Is it a good read thus far?”

“Why thank you, Mister Novak,” Dean’s formality provided nothing but a small chuckle from his friend. “And yes, the magazine is proving to be quite a refreshing read.”

“One might think that the flu has changed your character severely for you to refer to me by my surname. Might I ask why the sudden change?” Although warmed by the temperature in the house, Castiel felt somewhat nervous and uncertain of himself as he dragged his chair closer to the side of the bed.

Dean’s cheeks tinged a little and he tasted the soup, marveling over the finest quality as prepared by Ellen’s hands.

If he could be honest for just a few seconds, he would silently remark on the other man’s attire. The tie was lacking, a button undone and Dean’s eyes lingered there just long enough to recall Castiel's comment on his chest selfie.

A very long time ago, when he younger than sixteen, the two of them would walk a good way from the houses, through the trees into a small clearing containing a lake. He could still remember the laughing and splashing of water in each other’s faces, and diving to the bottom, trying to ascertain who could hold their breaths the longest. Castiel always won for some strange reason, and the younger man would plunge into his friend’s arms, trying to push the two of them lower into the cool depths of the water.

Now he could never forget those moments that they shared over the years, slices in time that were embedded in his memory forever and would serve as comforting spaces to dwell in.

“Eat up,” Castiel urged, almost finished and reaching for his glass of water. His countenance was sincere and their eyes met instantly.

Dean groaned and wrinkled his nose because it was such a difficult thing to swallow when his throat felt so terrible. “Only because you want me to, Cas.”

“Much obliged. Now, hurry up because I require your assistance with something that is of import.”

“That’s why you came up here?” Dean’s spirits dampened after drowning in the actuality of being special enough to capture the older man’s evening. “Not because you wanted to have dinner with me? You telling me this isn't a date?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Castiel sighed although his cheeks dusted pink and after finishing his soup, he rested the bowl upon the tray, then reached for the paper bag by his feet. “In fact, I came here with the main intention to tend to you in the best way that I can. And here you are believing otherwise. Whatever must I do to prove to you that your worth is substantial, Dean?”

“How about admitting that you believe in aliens?” two perfect rows of teeth and tongue tucked between offered nothing but a playful smile at the older man.

Castiel tilted his head and those blue eyes narrowed. “I’ve arrived at the conclusion that I _do_ believe in aliens because _you_ believe in them.”

Dean’s impressed look was delivered instantly and resting the spoon into the bowl, he smiled widely. “No way in hell.” The older man’s honest look was too much to digest. “Wow, Cas. That’s…you’ve never…in all my life…are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m quite well, Dean.” Lowering his shy smile, Castiel slowly unfolded the top of the paper bag and gingerly chewed on his lips.

Both of them remained in silence whilst laughter erupted downstairs and Ellen’s cheerful tone joined in, signaling that the other two men’s company was effortlessly compensated for. But that was John’s ability to entertain successfully in any situation, and so there was no harm done.

Castiel emptied the contents from the paper bag finally, revealing the Vicks, peppermint oil and pillow and when Dean realized how treasured he was to have someone tend to him like that, his heart melted so much. It wasn’t unusual; this kind of attention. But it was always refreshing every single time the moment presented itself because just when he felt completely unworthy and unwell, the older man replaced all of those things with sincere love.

Now though, a challenge was presented because applying the Vicks tugged Dean back to the days when he was younger and the act held nothing but comfort. He was a small child eager to get well and the sense of self-pride was not something that troubled him in the least except now, to become more aware of his maturity was a hurdle that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Why should he feel any discomfort by having his best friend apply oil and Vicks with the main intent of easing his woes?

Ignoring the younger man’s protests, Castiel scooped a small amount onto his fingers and rose up to neatly settle on the bed. From there, without giving in to protests, he offered nothing but a smile as Dean appeared terribly constipated, forehead creased and his arms hugging the pillow protectively.

“Lighten up, will you? I don’t have leprosy.”

“All I’m saying is that I can do it myself.”

But Castiel was insistent, reaching out to undo the topmost button on Dean’s hotdog pajamas, his hand was immediately taken and held between warm fingers. Tenderly, the gesture was maintained in such a fashion that locked their eyes and allowed most of the Vicks to coat Dean’s hand but he still wouldn’t let go. And when Castiel realized the magnitude of the younger man’s fever, the worried expression deepened on his face because the feeling was very much like the terrible pneumonia situation a couple years prior.

Dean was burning up to a point where it was a little too much to even tolerate the coolness of Castiel’s hand and although he wanted to let go, he squeezed the older man’s fingers as if desiring all the human contact he could achieve. “I’m so mushy, Cas,” he said softly, green eyes mellowing, “dammit, I feel so needy. and it’s embarrassing.”

Chuckling, Castiel entwined their hands and shook his head. ”Don’t feel embarrassed about that, since I already am aware of how you become when you’re sick. It’s not new to me.”

Dean could sense nothing but an abundance of care and concern about his well-being and once determination kicked in, the other man was best left to do whatever pleased him. "I need you, Cas. Is that normal?"

"It is possible as long as I am alive," the older man supplied in a calming tone, avoiding eye contact. "Now you must relax."

Gulping, he tried when Castiel began to softly apply the vapor rub to the base of his neck and the feeling was too soothing to ignore. “Man, that feels so good. Can you do this like twice a day?”

“And there you were protesting against it.”

Reaching for the caramel colored donut pillow, Castiel applied drops of peppermint oil and fitted the U shape around Dean’s neck. And it was too much to absorb the kindness and softness offered by the older man. He couldn’t suffocate his adoration even if he wanted to because Castiel was doing the right things, placing ideas inside his mind of spending the rest of his life with someone who understood how to tend to him in every situation; there was no one else apart from Ellen who provided so much comfort without asking first.

Could he ever find a woman who would match the things these two special people spoiled him with? Thus far, there was only so much that he was ever exposed to that tarnished his belief in ever discovering someone else who would care for him in all the ways he desired. And because he was never exposed to anyone who extended their love enough to prove that he was worthy of going the extra mile for, Dean was left with a best friend who would pluck a star from the sky if he asked.

“Are you comfortable?” Castiel’s voice was too soothing as he returned the cork to the jar. “Do you need me to adjust your pillows?”

“No,” Dean’s voice hoarsened as he shifted into a comfortable position, legs forming a 4 underneath the blanket. “Thanks, Cas.”

“No need to thank me. Now here are your medication to get you through the night.” Tearing open the packet of the Theraflu, Castiel shook the tablets out and rested them on the younger man’s palm. “Maybe you should chew the Vitamin C first,” he frowned.

“You think so, Doctor Sexy?” Dean teased, their eyes meeting to reveal smiles on both sides. Collecting the chewable, he popped it into his mouth and instantly regretted the tangy burst of taste. Gagging, he reached for the glass of water and scowled at Castiel’s deliberate chuckle as the Vitamin C burned his throat. “What else did you bring? More things to torture me with?”

“Oh, right,” collecting the plastic bag from the carpet, the older man pulled out a phone box and held it up proudly. The immediate effect on Dean was nothing short of shock. “I’ve finally conceded and would very much like you to help me set up a few things but since you’re ill—”

“I’m never too sick to ever get you going with technology. Come on, man. Samsung, J7,” Dean snatched the box and laughed, obviously impressed. “Not a bad choice at all. Just…” he pulled off the cover and plucked out the phone, “well, I need like an hour to –”

“I’m here for as long as it takes,” Castiel’s blue eyes were mellowed and he started clearing away the bedside table as if it was his job to take care of everything that related to the young man. “But don’t…sign me up for any social media platforms since I hardly have the time anyway because of work.”

“Okay, fair enough. So…WhatsApp, Chrome, Pinterest…hmm. YouTube.” Dean began to list a few apps that obviously caused the other man to stare at him with a confused look and because the age difference between them also proved most times to be lacking of expertise in some areas, he was more than willing to provide clarity when the need arose. “I’ll teach you all that I know. Don’t worry, you’ll be moving from a newbie to professional status in no time.”

Deciding that the dishes needed to be returned downstairs, Castiel left and was absent for half an hour due to John inquiring after the possibility of obtaining a loan to renovate the workshop. In the meantime, Dean burrowed into the sheets and after completing the process of setting up his friend’s phone, he purposely changed the wallpaper to something that would satisfy himself more than the older man; the selfie the two of them took inside the Impala.

It was a grand effect to admire the deed done, and making the same change on his phone, Dean wondered what else he could accomplish before his friend returned. He fixed Castiel's WhatsApp display picture to one that he captured on a prior Sunday after stealing moments of the older man’s profile. He also entered the password to the WIFI and hoped that Balthazar would do the same after Castiel returned to the looming mansion across the moor. Then when Dean was a little too bored with himself from waiting, he returned to the magazine feeling quite contented.

But one thing was certain; Castiel’s sudden decision to acquire a phone was a bit odd, but entirely satisfactory. Wasn’t it strange that the older man conceded so suddenly? Maybe not, when Dean thought of the world changing and the demands of Castiel’s job; maybe he needed to keep in contact with his clients on an updated platform as opposed to just telephoning them. Emails could be received on his mobile when he was away from his laptop, therefore providing enough comfort in _going mobile_.

By the time Castiel returned to Dean’s room, a sudden rain began that never promised to dull to a drizzle and whilst thunder rocked the heavens, lightening streaking across the closed blinds, and the obvious presented itself. His best friend could not return home in such a downpour and would have to settle somewhere in the Winchester’s home for the night.

Bobby and Ellen were presented with the guest room and the latter insisted that Castiel find comfort in Dean’s room. To the younger man’s dismay though, Ellen’s reference to their friend already taking his flu shot and at no risk in catching it was advantageous. Her intent was for the two of them to prepare the spare mattress on the carpet but then after Dean’s heart strained from the injustice of leaving Castiel to sleep so uncomfortably, he proposed that they find another option.

“Well, you two could share the bed,” Ellen stood by the door, hands planted on her hips and felt a little too guiltily satisfied from the suggestion. “Plenty of space on the king size.”

“I’m fine with the ground,” Castiel said softly with a smile, obviously noting Dean’s slight discomfort. “Please don’t go out of your way.”

“Hell if I wouldn’t,” Ellen stormed into the room and scowled at Dean who offered a sheepish expression. “Look, get your hindy off the damn bed and come with me to get some new sheets and pillowcases. Cas, you’re family. The last thing Dean is going to allow is for his _best friend_ to sleep on the damn ground. Get up.”

Dean complied because Ellen, as mentioned before, was not a force to be reckoned with and this was completely revealed after the two of them entered the hallway.

“You need to stop being so sensitive and think about what’s best,” she wound her arm around his waist because he was still achy and weak and feared that his actions were very selfish.

“Ellen, it’s not like I don’t want him to sleep with me on the same bed, I’m sick and sneezy and a complete mush. And the last thing I’d want is to wake him up during the night because I’m tossing and turning. You know that I care about the guy, I really do but it’s just…I’ve never really had anyone in my bed. Charlie sleeps on the ground. I like to sprawl all over like a damn spider with eight legs.”

“I get you, believe me I do,” she squeezed him closer and pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek. “But when it comes to doing the right thing, you got to put all of that aside. Bet you could find a way to make it work. Put a pillow between you two and don’t…” she pulled open the drawer in the spare room and searched for a sheet, “…make him feel like he’s a burden staying here.”

When they returned to the room, Castiel was just emerging from the adjoining washroom after scrubbing his face. And whilst helping Ellen to change the bed sheets although she insisted to complete the job on her own, Dean softened up towards the intrusion. He gradually dismissed his selfish feelings to remember how accommodating he was to Charlie. When she slept over, he never felt uncomfortable and Castiel was so much closer to him, so why should he not be privileged to share the same bed? It wasn’t as if they were attracted to each other and conscious of their personal space.

Dean scolded himself so severely that he eventually rose up and tried to compensate for the damage done. Searching through his wardrobe, he pulled out a comfy maroon sweater and a pair of slacks, then finding a clean towel, he handed the pile over.

“It’s okay,” Castiel said softly, smiling and returning the towel, “I showered before coming over so I’ll just change. You’re so kind, Dean,” he rested a reassuring hand upon the other man’s shoulder before entering the washroom and closing the door.

The silence that followed was so welcoming though, and buzzed with the kind of anxiousness Dean didn’t understand at all except to mean that he was really thrilled to have company for the night. He collected Middlemarch from the bookcase and returned to the bed, then pulling away the fresh blanket, he crept into the cool feeling of new sheets and thought about resting the pillow in the middle. But wouldn’t that be too suggestive of the obvious? That he was too sensitive to the two of them sharing a bed?

Dean sighed, and his eyes flicked to the ceiling. “If anybody up there is listening,” he began in a hushed tone, “please,” he blinked fast and swallowed painfully, “ _please_ help me, okay? Don’t make me dream of screwing any woman of any kind tonight. I want happy dreams of chasing rabbits like Alice and—”

“Talking to yourself?” Castiel closed the door softly behind him and presented himself with a look of contentment.

“Just saying my prayers,” Dean didn’t really lie but gaped anyway at the comfortable attire the older man had slipped into. “You okay with the clothes?”

“Very much so. I am so sorry to impose on your privacy like this.”

“Cas, I’m glad to have you here. I was just worried about me being too contagious. Don’t want you to get sick.” He exposed half of the truth and therefore felt less guilty about it. “Come on, hop in.” Peeling back the blanket, he shook the copy of Middlemarch at his friend with a teasing countenance.

“Ah, nothing like a few pages of reading before bed.” But lingering by the window, Castiel stared intensely through the glass. “I just hope that my brother remembers to lock all the windows. He could be quite reckless sometimes. Mildew does so much damage, it’s very common for books to—”

“Would you come _here_? Dammit.” Dean’s voice was strained from desiring the other man’s nearness because he really and truly could become so mushy. “And stop worrying. Pretty sure Balthazar will not let your books get wet. Besides, knowing you, you probably locked all the windows before coming over.”

Plucking the book from the blanket, Castiel gently eased himself onto the bed and after burying his bare feet under the covers, he chuckled.

Dean blinked in his direction, the copy of Seventeen magazine parted on his lap but forgotten of. “What’s so funny?”

The older man was always an abundance of smiles. “I’ve just remembered that I haven’t shared a bed with someone in over twenty years. But when I thought that it would feel very uncomfortable, here I am, as cozy as ever. And with no better company than you. I suppose _that_ is the reason behind my happiness when I should be irritated because I am not spending the night in my own room.”

Wishing to refrain from dwelling on such a topic, Dean couldn’t and so he licked his lips and became too curious to know more. “Twenty years can’t be right. What happened to Claire’s mom?”

“She was not conceived on a bed.”

Dean tried to swallow his surprise but failed miserably because the statement contained so much confidence. “Wow, Cas. So, you trying to tell me that you remember exactly when that happened? You two didn’t screw around any other time? Come on.”

“Amelia was very pretty but equally tormented by her addictions. I spent the majority of our relationship trying to help her off the drugs. And the rest of it, we were constantly arguing and fighting with each other, so of course I remember the one time we were intimate enough to…” Castiel dipped his head and frowned. “2002 in the washroom of a diner just off Highway 89. She was terribly high and desperate and I was far too frustrated to fight her advances. And I don’t know…I just don’t _feel_ anything but regret when I think of Amelia because I couldn’t do more to help her. If I had done enough then Claire would still have a mother.”

“Didn’t she die from complications whilst giving birth to Claire?” Dean frowned, studying his friend’s face in the room only lit by the lamp on the table.

Castiel shook his head and studied splayed fingers upon the blanket. “No. She overdosed on PCP and died as a result afterwards. And because of that, Claire was born premature and very fragile. And maybe it is harsh of me to admit this but Amelia had no right to be so reckless although her pregnancy was known. Concealed from me of course because she detested my efforts to _save_ her. But had I known…”

“Cas, you did your best. I don’t think that you would give up on someone so easily. You’re so damn loyal, once there’s someone that deserves your attention and appreciates it, you do everything there is to make things better. And man, I’m not an expert with relationships but as much as I know, Amelia was a damn lucky woman to have you.”

“Thank you, Dean,” the older man’s face delivered an appreciative look. “I hope that you find yourself in a relationship that proves as much satisfaction as needed. You’re deserving of that.” 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all have what we want.”

“Meaning?” Castiel sunk into the pillow on his right side, the copy of Middlemarch as forgotten as the magazine on Dean’s lap. And when he would have fallen asleep an hour ago if his own bed was occupied, he was far too intrigued by being in the company of someone who seemed to desire nothing but conversation.

“That’s life,” the younger man sighed and his gaze moved to the yellow curtains barely moving from the harsh wind seeping through the cracks. “It’s forever a challenge. And maybe they’re all right. Love isn’t supposed to be easy and it shouldn’t be easy. But don’t you think it’s a little unfair to fall for someone, waste so much time pining over them and then it just passes as a phase because chances are, they will never feel the same about you?”

“Are you…speaking from a personal perspective or about Amelia?”

“Does it matter?” Dean blinked back coolly. “All I’m saying is, the entertainment industry thrives over putting out movies and tv shows that basically has the guy mostly getting the girl. Or the girl getting the guy she wants to fall for her easily. And it’s a strategy to give people false hope because life isn’t so peachy and rosy and perfect. People think that because a guy is attractive, he can get any girl he wants. But what if the guy wants someone that doesn’t want him?”

Castiel’s inability to respond produced a silence that settled between them just enough to unearth a sense of discomfort. Because when Dean was passionate about a subject, he liked to be challenged and provided with responses. And when the man that mattered most to him remained unresponsive, he was forced to feel unsettled.

“Sorry if I said something out of line.”

“No, it’s…” Castiel cleared his throat after his voice dipped too low, “…it’s quite sensible. What you’ve said, I mean. I can’t help but relate.”

“There you go,” Dean nodded and flipped open the magazine again and turned the pages idly. “People thinking that a handsome guy like you could get any girl you want, when you don’t want _just_ any girl out there.”

“I was more thinking along the lines of…pining over someone who doesn’t feel the same about me,” Castiel sighed and absentmindedly fixed the blanket under Dean’s elbows and in the process of doing that, the younger man’s chest heaved as if he was somewhat mesmerized. “Love can be so unfortunate to experience but worthy enough to suffer through.”

“Well, I don’t agree because I feel it’s unfair that we can’t control who we fall for and then when it happens, we’re mostly left disappointed. And besides,” Dean studied Castiel’s fingers idly playing with the blanket next to his elbow, “it’s not like you’re in love to feel bad about it, are you?”

“Are _you_?”

“I asked you first,” Dean’s scrutiny latched onto the other man’s face and the instant flushed cheeks came as a surprise to him, so much, that he dropped the magazine. Shifting on the bed, he turned on his side and stared at the obvious truth revealed inside blue eyes that mellowed tremendously. ”Cas? Are you…in love with someone?”

“What if I am, Dean?”

Immediately though, Dean’s heart squeezed and pained from the confession that he tried to conceal the disappointment as best as he could. There was no way he could not support something so special for his best friend. His _best friend_. Why was he constantly dwelling on jealousy? Castiel was handsome and worthy and perfect and Dean loved him so much that the torture of having to witness the older man in the arms of someone else was too much to bear, but he needed to.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Dean hated that his voice cracked and so he proceeded to override the slip of his emotions by following up with a chuckle.

“It’s a secret. I’d like to tell you but I really can’t at the moment.”

“No, it’s fine, man. I mean, you can tell me all about it when you’re ready. But for now, let’s not talk about love because it’s just disappointing and painful.”

“Is it really though?” Castiel asked softly and he buried his right cheek into the soft pillow whilst still gazing at Dean. “I think that it’s worth it to fall in love and hope. And even if it doesn’t happen then at least you’re left with the fleeting feeling of wishing that it did.”

Dean actually scoffed and shook his head because the notion was a little too unbelievable to digest. “What’s the point, Cas? You’re just going to dig yourself closer to hell whilst the other person is going about their life happy as ever.”

“Well since I already know what hell feels like,” Castiel adjusted himself on the bed and sighed after fumbling with the blanket to conceal his toes, “it’s not so bad to dwell in misery.”

For a long time, Dean could only gaze at his friend with the kind of intrigue that intermingled with so much worry and pain. It wasn’t that he was judging him for his statement, but more like relating to the torture but in his own kind of tragic way where there were disappointments. At twenty-five, he hoped that he would be settled in a marriage already with children, just as his brother was, even despite his protests to act against such norms. But Dean never reached that kind of happiness as yet and oftentimes wondered if he was cursed to live a lonely life without knowing what love felt like at all.

Or as Sam would lament on every occasion; if you keep believing that love wouldn’t find you, maybe it never will come knocking at all.

“Let’s see what Seventeen has to say about your horoscope,” he flipped the magazine out and smiled forcefully at the page before him because dwelling on such a sore topic was bound to reduce him to a night of more trauma. “Okay _Scorpio_. It says here that you’re currently finding yourself in a dilemma that has progressed for years. And although you want nothing more than to get what it is off of your chest, it’s best to be patient and await the right time.”

Castiel by then was so silent that Dean checked to see if he fell asleep. However, those blue eyes were latched onto the magazine but the look was too distant like he wasn’t inside the room anymore but elsewhere.

“Come back to me, huggy bear,” and lightly brushing his fingertips upon the older man’s curled fingers, Dean initiated a gaze that was deep and searching for something he knew not what it was. “What's bothering you? Thought you like horoscopes.”

“I do.” Castiel slipped his fingers between his friend's warmer ones and attempted a small smile. The gesture was so normal to them at that point that it didn't raise eyebrows but felt reassuring. “What’s yours?”

“Mine’s always wrong. Aquarius,” Dean began, stifling the uneasy feeling of rambling on when he really and truly understood that it was a coping strategy to avoid the painful truth that the topic of love was stupid and only brought up immense pain. “You are soon going to realize that you’ve been immensely in love. Don’t be alarmed. Companionship breeds more than admiration in most cases so the transition will be easy and filled with contentment. The actual hell?”

Castiel laughed deeply and nodded as if agreeing with the words printed on the magazine. “Accurate for the first time?”

“Nope. Son of a bitch. Here,” Dean chucked the magazine onto his friend’s chest and folded his arms, clearly mulling over the ability of some stranger having the capability to constantly incorrectly assess his situation. He wasn’t in love and wasn’t expecting to fall into such a trap.

“It’s not a bad thing to allow yourself the opportunity to love and to be loved, Dean,” Castiel said softly, “you’re always in fear of opening up yourself again after what happened with Lisa and Jo. But what if someone comes along who is absolutely in love with you and would like to show you exactly what love entails? Do you think that it is fair to deprive yourself of that?”

“I’m just not…” because he was so conflicted by the topic, Dean’s face contorted a little as he suddenly fought the tears from coming forth. “I’ve never been lucky, okay? Every time I think of it, I just remember the cold feeling of abandonment and heartache and now I’m going to embarrass myself by crying.” He shook his head, sniffed and shielded his face because it was too terrible to crumble so easily.

“Dean, your tears are not an embarrassment,” Castiel returned in a soothing tone, reaching for the other man’s hand and prying his fingers away from wet cheeks. What registered on his countenance though was so much worry and sadness. “You have healed from those tragedies and I promise you that it gets better.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Dean pleaded as he scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and although Castiel lightly caressed his tear stained cheeks, the hollow feeling inside of his chest was too overwhelming to even register the deep affections by the other man.

“Here is the list of 2019-2020 Most Compatible Signs,” Castiel said softly, staring at the magazine with widened eyes.

Dean groaned. “You know, I don’t believe in that crap. It’s too cliché.”

The older man sighed although green eyes rested on the words printed on the page and he wished not to divulge the findings. “Funnily though, they’ve matched us together. Aquarius with Scorpio. Do you share the same sentiments still?”

“Give me the damn magazine,” Dean snatched it and chucked it onto the bedside table with a deep scowl. “So much for light reading before bed.”

“Why are you so upset?” Castiel smiled, clearly humored by the reaction. “It’s all for fun. There’s no harm in that and you’ve never believed in any of it before so why would your feathers be ruffled now?”

“I’m just going to sleep now. Good night,” Dean turned over on his right side. “You can turn off the lamp when you’re ready.”

“In that case,” suddenly the younger man’s space was invaded as Castiel reached over him to complete the deed, “good night,” he said after flipping off the lamp and in the dark, he left a chaste kiss on Dean’s forehead.

“Good night…”

Castiel squeezed the other man’s shoulder afterwards and soft lips brushed dark blonde hair in the dark. “Sweet dreams.”

After the bed rocked a little from Castiel adjusting his position, Dean turned around, ready to say something that he wasn’t so sure what it was. And when the older man’s back greeted him in the dark, he sighed and accepted that maybe their conversation really was over for the night.

But then there was the dying need to say something, because he wanted so much more in that moment and because he couldn’t really control his weakened state, Dean handed over control to his heart.

“Cas?”

“Yes?” shifting on the bed as the rain came down in sheets, their eyes finally met again when Castiel rolled over. “What is it?”

“Can you…” Dean swallowed because he was so conflicted and his heart was hammering away, “can you hold me?” his voice cracked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but…I just…I _need_ you to. And I don't know how else to explain it.”

When Castiel inched nearer with a soft smile settling on his face, Dean’s lips parted from how easy the request was accepted. It was like old times, when he was so frightened of something and then those comforting arms delivered so much security that was definite enough to chase away the fears. Now, what he desired most was to be sheltered and loved and appreciated and maybe he hated the idea of love but he never despised when the older man showered him with the feeling.

Castiel pushed himself upwards and draping an arm that served as a pillow underneath Dean’s head, he nestled his face into soft hair that smelled faintly of Irish Spring. Every so often, his fingers caressed those soft tendrils, and just because he was too soothed to avoid it, Castiel wound his other arm around Dean’s waist and held him so close that they could feel each other’s hearts beating. And in that moment, because he was too contented and all he wanted was right inside of his arms, he felt the tears slip from his eyes and thanked the heavens that Dean was already fast asleep and would never witness him crying.

Little did he know though, that green eyes were barely opened and entirely conscious of every single second that ticked by in the dark. As the rains came down and thunder rolled, as he was pressed closer into the warm smell of apples and fresh linen and Old Spice, Dean’s fingers curled into Castiel’s t-shirt which originally was _his_ t-shirt. He wanted to stay there forever, through every single season because he knew that whatever happened, he would be taken care of, protected and loved. Nothing else mattered to him, Dean was becoming more aware of that, and because he felt so at home in Castiel’s arms, he fell asleep peacefully.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst kicks in from here and get your tissues. Don't say I didn't warn you. This is where it all starts getting emotional. Good luck!

**Excerpt:**

> **12:15am - It’s been three days now, Cas. Three damn days since you walked away from me.**
> 
> **12:30am - I can’t do this anymore, I’m so damn mad at you right now but I’m also so damn broken that you’re avoiding me and you can’t talk to me.**
> 
> **1:00am - CAS PLEASE ANSWER ME.**

* * *

For a succession of a week, Dean entertained no company during the day due to long hours spent online completing exams.

Charlie was left on her own to traverse the town with intentions too secretive enough to relate to her newfound brother. Activities that consisted of spending excessive time at the church, lending a helping hand to the parishioners, packing hampers and creating quite a reputation in Bible Club.

For the latter, she constantly confided in Castiel’s company because the other members were either too old or stubborn about the belief that young people are backwards, or because they simply did not agree to her flaming red hair and flamboyant personality. The older man though, was her constant companion for the three hours spent every Saturday evening from five and very soon the two of them ended up being confidantes.

In addition to these activities Charlie undertook, her relationship with Father Crowley blossomed into one that suggested more of a father-daughter theme than the pangs of love. For she understood what that kind of love entailed, and although Dean was quite supportive of a match between the two people, she soon discovered that the older man was better served as a guardian than a potential suitor. She also had an epiphany on a Tuesday whilst Dean was planted in front of his laptop expounding on three fundamental moments of history that founded the U.S.A.

Whilst standing around a table with twelve women and packing groceries neatly into straw baskets, Charlie suddenly wondered if she was much more suited as a teacher who would receive a small income as opposed to tending to the kids in the orphanage. Of course, if she decided to pursue such a career, then in her spare time she could still volunteer at Saint Anne’s. But what she needed more than ever at her age was the income because the sisters could only spare so much, and to deplete their budget; it was already a burden.

Therein lay the foundation of her budding plan to seek out as much information as possible. And when she thought of pursuing the same avenue as Dean, Charlie’s excitement grew tremendously, because the two of them could equally support one another.

Now this is where Father Crowley’s guiding hand played a major part in cementing her career path because as soon as she mentioned this to him, he sought out a suitable position at a local school.

In two days, Charlie was seated next to a daytime teacher in a classroom, with the main intent to observe and learn about the many subjects. Therefore, when she related the news to Dean over the phone, his first reaction was a loud cheer followed by an exceptional assessment of her strength and character. He was more than pleased to support her in anything she needed and matching his enthusiasm and passion, Castiel couldn’t contain his excitement after she showed up at the Novak’s estate.

“Well, look at this!” he beckoned for her to enter the lobby that was enormous and extravagantly decorated with fine tapestry and sconces. “Let me just say that I am thrilled to have you here,” he took a hold of her shoulders and smiled widely, drinking in the abundance of pink and flushed skin. “Let’s have a cup of tea. Or several if the conversation deepens.”

Very soon, the two of them were delving into so many topics that she couldn’t contain how thrilling it was to be seated in his company. But the absence of Dean still hung in the air between them and even though his name didn’t arise in their conversation for the first half, the second was filled with everything about him.

The absence that made the heart grow fonder, the highly determined streak to excel at his studies, the passionate glint in those green eyes to love and adore those close to him. And Charlie soon realized that as much as she loved Dean as a brother, Castiel spoke so lovingly about him like he was far more than a friend or a family member.

In fact, after highlighting the immense pleasure expressed by the older man as they retraced memorable parts of history, she discovered that the fondness indeed blossomed on his side much earlier than she expected. And it wasn’t just the electric sparkle in those blue eyes that suggested such an intense love for Dean. It was how animated Castiel’s hands became whilst speaking about the younger man, reminiscing and expressing his wishes that only good things should happen to their mutual friend.

“You might be kind of happy to know that I’m actually in love.” When she related the advances from Dorothy, Castiel smiled warmly. "Well…I think I am," she wrung her hands as if a little nervous about the confession. "If love is supposed to make my knees weak and my head spin like a spaceship, then I'm totally eyeballs deep in it."

“Well isn’t that the greatest news I’ve heard in a week!” the older man's cheeks tinged from happiness and he settled into the chair with his arms folded. "It sounds indeed as if you've caught the love bug. Tell me more…"

Charlie was blushing deeply from his contentment. “Actually, it's a she and not a he as you might think. I mean, sure she’s a farmer and she lives in a farmhouse but she’s so kind to me and I can’t help falling in love with her. Like I’m for reals falling in love with a girl.”

“And nothing is wrong with that,” Castiel frowned, taking her hand into his again and searching green eyes that offered a hint of fear and doubt. "Love is love, regardless of gender, isn't it?"

“Yeah, well,” suddenly her spirits dampened as a daunting weight pressed down on her chest, “Dean doesn’t like it.” He wasn't delighted by the idea for sure, in fact, her friend was troubled by it.

“Hmm?” Collecting his tea, Castiel sipped and frowned deeper. “Dean doesn’t like what?”

Shrugging, she flicked her eyes to the crackling fireplace and wondered whether revealing the bit of news would cause a rift, “he doesn’t like Dorothy as a person. Nor does he find her, you know, worthy of my affections because she’s…a _farmer_ and all.” All of this darkened Castiel’s blue eyes to a point where the teacup clattered a little as he rested it down on the saucer.

“ _Dean_ told you this,” he said in a low tone that would have reflected terrible disappointment to someone who clearly was able to decipher his moods.

“Well, he just cares about me. I mean, he’s right. Especially when he said that people would talk bad things if I started going out with a girl and then I’d lose my job. I can’t lose my job, Cas. I just can’t. I have to see the kids at Saint Anne’s and I’d be lost without that opportunity.”

Castiel’s obvious flash of anger caused him to sit up , back as stiff as a poker and he stared at the fire. “I’m not of the impression that Dean did not say the things he did out of caring immensely for you. But he had no right to trample your heart’s desire. Dean…he’s just not very good at affections and expressing how he feels,” Castiel said with a faraway look. “For Dean to admit how he feels about someone would be like asking him to speak another language fluently.”

"I mean, at the end of the day, it's my choice, right?" she rather much asked a question than determine that she was definitely in control of her own life. "I have to make bad decisions…"

"I'm afraid Dorothy isn't one of those. I've known her for quite some time since she's a tenant of mine. The farm land she possesses is owned by the Novaks and she's been seeking financial advice from me for many years," Castiel admitted and poured a spot of tea for Charlie. "She's a very industrious young lady, I must admit that. She's also very caring and would do well with someone like you."

Charlie sighed, sipped her ginger laced with honey tea and curled into the soft chair that wrapped her in a warm hug. "I have to change something about me. I can't be stuck forever as plain."

"My dearest Charlie," Castiel rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and their eyes met, "you shouldn't change anything about you. Unicorns are rare, and you must not strive to downgrade to anything else."

She would never admit it to Dean, but in that moment, Charlie honestly gazed into those large blue eyes, and she drowned in them so effortlessly. A gentleman, so pure and honest and handsome in every aspect of the word caught every lady's eyes, and he was capable of melting her heart in ways any other man never accomplished. If she wasn't in love with Dorothy, Charlie believed that her newfound crush would develop further, and since Dean clearly wasn't interested in returning the older man's feelings, maybe she would never stand a chance.

But at least she could soothe her swelling feelings with a little more conversation…

There was no harm in that.

\-------------

When Dean’s exams were over in a matter of four days, he was sitting in the living room facing the comfortable fire when a few hurried knocks sounded on the front door. Frowning, he rose up and discovered that no other than Charlie rushed in, eager to present good news and somehow trying to hold back enough to ask after his health and exams.

After deliberating the exactness of his best attempts and still feeling like he would perhaps flunk at least one subject, the two of them settled on the couch.

Dean eyed her curiously though because she was far too radiant to ignore. “What’s brought on this afterglow, huh?”

Charlie nudged his right shoulder and chuckled. “Don’t _Taylor Swift_ me. Okay, so before you find out anyway, I just want you to know that after I couldn’t come over here and bother you during the week with my total excitement, I went over to talk to Cas about my teaching job.”

Her friend’s raised eyebrows coupled with a small smile suggested his slight surprise. “Nice. Meaning you beat me to it then.” He referred to finally facing his fears and heading over to the Novak estate after all these years of silently debating upon it.

“Well, I figured that I’d burst if I couldn’t talk to _someone_ about it, so…”

“No, it’s fine,” Dean laughed in good humor and glanced at the fire, resting a hand on her back reassuringly. “It’s totally fine. I mean, he’s your friend too so nothing wrong with that. I can’t have him all to myself, can I?” the tilt of his head didn’t go unnoticed by Charlie who studied the reaction and the response quite intently. “I mean, it’s not like the guy lives in my ass. He has duties elsewhere and he’s friends with other people so I’m fine.”

“He’s like the nicest guy apart from you that I know,” Charlie deliberately highlighted, and avoided eye contact despite knowing that her little crush would never be concealed easily because of her habit of rambling, “I mean, thinking about it, Cas is any girl’s dream guy. He’s got money but dude, he’s so respectable and soft and kind and freaking dreamy and handsome and everything else that—”

“You done now?” Dean blinked at the fire and offered a small smile because he understood her admiration for the older man, as many other women oftentimes found Castiel absolutely appealing. "Sounds like you have a little crush on the dude."

"I do not!" she admitted quite heatedly, cheeks pink, and after Dean realized the truth leapt out so quickly, he stared back and revealed a smile so strained, his face ached.

What was this? The internal battle of moths fighting to be freed because their wings tinged from the fire of a slight jealousy. It was so sudden that he swallowed hard and blinked away, honestly believing that such a small change inside his chest could not account for anything other than his ridiculous possessiveness over the older man.

"Look, not meaning to rain on your parade, but the age gap thing might not go well with some people. Back in the good old days in England, sure," Dean detested that his mind could not be quieted, "people would look at the dude being over twenty years older and think of it as respectable. But now?"

"Now it would be weird. I totally get it," Charlie huffed out a sigh, arms folded, and she stared at the fire. "He's so amazing though, like, super cool to be around and he gives me this fuzzy vibe of knowing exactly how to treat a lady the right way. You know what?” she turned on the chair and stared at him, “this is why he suits you, Dean. He can cook, play the piano, paint, look after his gardens, he’s a freaking genius. All of this I learned from talking to him and I bet that he has so much more qualities that even I don’t know about but you do.”

“Huh.” Settling into the chair, Dean considered her with a soft look, the absence of a smile suggesting a pensive mood.

Charlie, entertaining a cute crush on his best friend…it was a bit prickly to consider but honest and innocent and adorable. However, as he sat there and mulled over things whilst his companion disappeared into the kitchen to poke around in the fridge for a can of Pepsi, Dean wondered if the feelings were mutual. Could it be possible that Castiel viewed Charlie in the same light?

He would have to learn to tolerate the match if both ends decided to act on whatever would blossom between them, but what he could not tolerate though was her undying need to latch onto Dorothy, the farmer, who up to that point proved to be nothing but a disappointment. Her character was flawed and never colored enough to reflect someone of considerable wealth so when Charlie asked if she should say yes to the date proposal offered via text, Dean advised against it. He again listed the disadvantages of placing herself lower than she deserved and encouraged her to reply with a negative response.

“Good things will come, don’t worry,” he said, never really realizing how selfish his advice was at that point until the text was sent and the date delayed to a further time in the future. “Why not enjoy the freedom you have now to work on building your career instead of becoming tangled up in love? Love brings nothing but bad news, Charlie. Trust me. You’re better off without it.”

She would forever follow his words, despite what Castiel warned as a language Dean was not well-versed in. “I’ll just wait then. You know…for a better time to come along and maybe it’s not now but it’ll come soon."

 _Better_ being Castiel?

The tsunami rose up inside of his chest and covered him in waves that contained only disappointment after some time passed in silence. He believed himself to be accepting of the prospects of such a match, but no, he most definitely was not going to inwardly embrace the union for obvious reasons. First of all, the age difference was massive, secondly Castiel's peculiar habits would never do well for someone so vibrant as Charlie. Thirdly, there was no chemistry! None at all.

Her words followed him for the remainder of the afternoon as he debated on whether she deserved to be free from love as he believed he should. And after spending the hours convincing himself that Dorothy nor Castiel were not the most suited companion for Charlie, Dean closed off the day with a mild satisfaction that being single and free was far better than entering into a relationship which would only bring disappointments.

* * *

The next day, he was just about to settle onto the window seat to enjoy a glass of lemonade and a vanilla muffin when he spied Castiel hastily making his way across the moor. Glancing at the clock, he frowned at the time being just ten past five and wondered why the other man was so early for dinner or rather late for his visit during the day. But after determining from the set jaw and grim expression that something was amiss, Dean hopped off the window seat, unconsciously raked his fingers through light hair gone wild by moving around the house, and he casually approached the front door.

After spending a considerable amount of time analyzing the probability of a match between his two best friends being of a high percentage, Dean came to the conclusion that the value was possibly the lowest. Therefore, after the two of them assessed each other by the coat rack, a clear understanding passed across the short distance that this was more than a casual visit.

Castiel’s immediate greeting was, “hello, Dean,” followed shortly and wearily by, “are you alone at this hour?”

Dean, of the impression that the question sought out a conversation to be entertained in strict confidence instantly experienced a wave of anxiety because he wasn’t sure what the topic would be. It had to be something of _import_ as his friend liked to say on most occasions but here was an instance where he could not determine what would occur.

“I’m alone,” Dean presented with good humor, eyes resting on his friend who strode into the living room and made an abrupt turn in the middle of it.

Castiel offered nothing to reveal his feelings but a stolid expression. “Are you well, Dean? What have you done today?”

“Honestly,” the younger man scratched his forehead, head bent as those green eyes considered his socked feet and he smiled, “I kind of did a bit of cleaning. You know, fixing things around the place. Ellen does it often but I was just in the mood to _do_ something after exams.”

“And your exams went well, of course.” The two of them eyed each other with slight amusement and then after Dean highlighted the fear of gaining a low grade on a subject, Castiel immediately disagreed. “Absolutely not. You are far too brilliant to fall short of excellence. I missed you,” the last three words were rushed out as he wrung his hands as if inwardly debating on some conflicting news. “Terribly. Dinner without you was quite bland even though your father provided colorful topics.”

Dean smiled from ear to ear. “You know I missed you too, huggy bear. Was it still morning, I’d call you sunshine but since it’s not…” dipping his head, he shrugged, “I feel like Facebook for asking this, and you wouldn’t get the reference, but what’s on your mind? You look like you have something to get off your chest.”

Sighing, Castiel’s cheeks actually tinged into a soft pink and eyes flicking to the window seat, he stared beyond the pane towards the moor. “I have reason to believe that Charlie will be even more contented soon enough, in addition to securing a job, romance might be in the air. She seems intrigued by Dorothy, the local farmer. I suppose she fancies the prospects of that match enough to gain gratification by it to a considerable extent. She’s told me about pursuing her. Isn’t that great news to you?”

Dean’s immediate reaction was to stare at the other man in disbelief because surely he wasn’t in agreement. “Well I have news for you. Got to admit, I don’t know what’s so great about it. Like _that_ will ever happen. Dorothy _did_ ask her out on a date yeah, and she was turned down for obvious reasons.”

“What reasons could there be?” Castiel immediately returned, disapproval heightened enough to exert an exclamation. "A decision like that is utterly ridiculous!"

His friend displaying such emotions was rare and his opinion couldn’t be anything but disagreed on. “Well most likely, to you it is. I saw her answer. Nothing could be clearer.”

“You saw her answer?” Castiel was the one who stared now in awe and deliberately, he closed the distance between them to obviously highlight his disbelief on the matter. “You _persuaded_ her to refuse the offer. Dean look at me,” he ordered when the younger man made his way to the fireplace after becoming affected by the inches between them that encouraged a little too much scrutiny. “This is your doing, I’m sure of it. You could never lie to me with any success.”

Poking at the logs, Dean sighed as the flames danced around brighter. “Look, Dorothy is not so bad, because she’s obviously a hardworking young woman, I bet. But I will not agree that she is Charlie’s equal.”

“No. Dorothy is not her equal. She is far her superior!” Castiel exclaimed loudly, warmly even but afterwards, he added, “she is indeed not her equal at all, for she is far more in sense as in situation. Dean, your infatuation about the girl blinds you. What are Charlie’s claims either of birth or education? She has no wealthy relations—"

The younger man scoffed, turning to allow their eyes to meet as he rested the poker near the hearth. Clearly Castiel was out of his mind to assume such a thing considering the circumstances. Dorothy being Charlie’s superior? What could be more wrongfully applied apart from that? And he had the audacity to declare those things out loud?

“Charlie is the daughter of two people that are not here to give her moral advice or any kind of finance or happiness,” the older man continued in a lowered tone, never diverting the intense gaze as he attempted to penetrate green eyes and succeeded in unsettling Dean. “She’s a very colorful girl but also very simple. She’s no experience, barely started off on a job to earn an income. And very playful. She’s pretty. Good tempered maybe. But that is all,” Castiel pointed out in a passionate manner. “I felt in all respects that going on a date with Dorothy, would do no harm. Charlie is in love with her, very much in love with her that she was easily persuaded by me to follow her heart. Which I’m sure she would have if you didn’t intervene. I even thought of _you_ ,” he gestured at Dean who entertained raised eyebrows. “I thought even Dean will think of Dorothy as a good match.”

“I can’t believe you know so little about me to think something like that.” Dean walked around a staring Castiel and went to the window seat where he fussed with the heavy maroon colored blinds. “A farmer, a good match for someone I consider as my sister? Dorothy might be the one who has more money because of her job out of the two of them, but she is undoubtedly not that good enough in any other way. Being with a farmer would be so degrading.”

Castiel gasped, hands slowing curling into fists and approaching the window, he hovered behind the younger man who stiffened from the intrusion. “Dean! Degrading? To go on a date and perhaps further the relationship with a beautiful, intelligent, respectable farmer? Have I nor your family taught you anything about respecting other people’s situations in life enough to refrain from passing judgments?”

Dean flicked his eyes outside the window, choosing to comfortably seat himself without having to face those darkened blue eyes and he sighed. “Look, I’m pretty sure that Charlie’s parents were very happy and were they here they could be able to give her all the money she needs. But she hasn’t got any and was thrown into an orphanage. Why should she suffer from the absence of her parents? She is a pretty damn good person and deserves better. She associates with accomplished families like mine and you and the church.”

Castiel considered Dean’s profile, his hand lifting to rest on slumped shoulder and he squeezed the younger man's arm before realizing that the gesture completely contradicted his behavior thus far. The reaction was instantaneous as Dean stiffened on the window seat and he casually turned to assess his unsettled friend from head to toe. At that point, he was so certain that the narrowed proximity was deliberate enough to weaken his state of mind, to make him feel somewhat cornered and willed him to accept defeat.

“Can you give me space to breathe?” Dean continued in an uneven tone when the brush of Old Spice surrounded them. Suddenly his mind was reeling, most likely from the rushed emotions derived from the conversation but also from the deliberateness to get a rise out of him like always.

“My apologies, Dean, we live in the real world,” Castiel’s eyes fluttered close as he stepped back and gathered his composure through fisted hands. “she was very fine with growing up humble in an orphanage and therefore seeking comfort in the church until you encouraged her to think about her appearance in public if she should choose to date a woman. Did you know she was happy as ever with Dorothy and her family whilst preparing hampers this week?”

Of course, Dean wasn’t privy to that bit of news, of his friend spending a considerable amount of time with the other woman’s family and therefore enjoying herself. It was most convenient for him not to make a direct reply to this assertion; so he chose to rather take up his own line of the subject again.

“You have every right to want the best for her, Cas, I can agree with that. But the way you talk about her makes the girl seem like she has no kind of sense to deserve better. Why can’t she settle on the idea of finding someone better?”

Castiel sighed, obviously still angered but trying to gather his calm enough to rest a gaze on the younger man who was seated and staring out the window. “Dean, you misunderstand me. I am merely trying to highlight to you that there are many things in life that are not easy to attain. Therefore, happiness must be chased after in any form it takes because it is most ideal instead of waiting for the perfect man or woman to come along. By then wouldn’t we all be older than our years?”

“So, you’re saying that we shouldn’t try to do better.”

“I’m saying that she _is_ trying but there is nothing wrong with a farmer’s position in society. The job is of equal importance to any, despite the state the environment may provide but it’s all in the process of working to cultivate.”

Dean gazed into electric blue eyes and tried to simmer down his suspicions but he was far too convinced otherwise. “Well then fine. I bow to your superior knowledge, Cas. You’re twenty years more experienced than I am, right? You must know best. And besides, you’ve been spending so much time with her instead of me so you’re well-versed in what she wants, right?”

He promised himself that such a thing wouldn’t slip into the open but they were far too exposed by then for him to even hang onto any kind of composure.

Castiel couldn’t conceal his astonishment though and therefore stepped back as if severely bruised. “Yes, in fact I _have_ been confiding in her. Are you jealous, Dean? Again? That Charlie confided in me? First it was Jo and now it’s Charlie?”

“I’m not jealous.” The younger man swallowed, settled his glared outside of the window and wished that the distance between them was far more than what seemed like six inches. He just wanted to be separated from the drama and the heavy weight of emotions resting between them that developed from words left unsaid up until that point.

“Look at me,” Castiel said in a stern tone though, because he would not accept defeat until the air was cleared, “Dean, look me in my eyes and admit that you aren’t jealous.”

“Of what, Cas?” Green eyes offered nothing but uncertainty as they focused on blue ones and in that moment, Dean couldn’t contain his fears. He ended up revealing all the weakened thoughts of honestly believing that he was becoming less important to Castiel. And the worst pain of all was experienced when they both locked eyes and the air went dead silent between them for a full minute.

Something was happening to the older man though, that much Dean ascertained whilst scrutinizing his friend's countenance. It was like gazing into an abyss that reflected nothing but immense pain and torture and just for a moment, maybe for the first time ever, Dean witnessed the depth in his Castiel's eyes that suggested a truth he may never be able to decipher because he was simply unsure of what it was exactly.

"You cannot stand the thought of someone else having me, can you?" Castiel asked in a low, gravelly tone. "You would like me all to yourself without admitting that this is unfair to me. How am I supposed to be contented when I cannot be given the approval by my closest friend to seek out a relationship with someone else?"

"We were talking about Charlie—"

"I want to talk about us. _This_. Whatever it is that keeps happening to us. Dean, this is troubling you and we must address it."

"I don't know what _it_ is."

Dean was so ravished by the fear of losing the best friend he could ever have, of realizing that someday he would need to accept himself as second best, that a tear leaked down his cheek. Leaning forward, he wiped his face on the knees of his jeans and those green eyes settled on the moor. “Blame it on me for being stupid, right?”

“You're not stupid. Of course, you aren't. But you’re behaving like a child who doesn't wish to share his toys.”

"Don't call me a child, Cas. I'm not a _kid_. And I'm not behaving like one, dammit. Not because I have feelings. Not because you can't understand them—"

"Because you refuse to confide in me!"

"So you want me to just give up all my secrets, huh?" Dean stared back in awe as anguish washed over him. "You want me to expose all of my freaking skeletons? _You_ should talk," he grumbled, turning to glare out of the window where the grass on the moor barely moved. "I don't even know half the stuff you've been through. And the worst part is, you expect me to just be open about every damn thing when I don’t get the same from you."

The silence that followed was painful enough to squeeze Dean's heart and despite his inability to glance at his friend, he allowed it anyway. And from the moment he witnessed the older man's weakened countenance, cheeks flushed and eyes glistening with tears, he softened and felt terribly ashamed of himself.

"Didn’t mean to be so harsh, man."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you," Castiel's voice hoarsened and dipped a little as his shoulders drooped. "Maybe you should find a best friend who is easily able to divulge everything there is to know, instead of feeling like they're bombarding you with their tragedies, which you are too special to be burdened with. But I'm wrong. I'm always wrong."

"Cas, I didn't say that—"

"You don’t have to say it."

If Dean could have glanced upon the older man’s face one more time, he would have highlighted a tear quickly flicked away and then the resumption of that perfectly established posture that reflected nothing more than ideal composure. But despite his convictions of being utterly displaced throughout the conversation, he understood why his feelings were justified. He believed that he deserved the tolerance from the older man in this respect, because they were not strangers but well-versed in each other's characters.

“Look, we’ve both made our arguments, so let’s just call it off instead of going on and on and making each other angrier and angrier, okay?” Dean played with the latch on the window and avoided their eyes meeting.

But Castiel wasn’t finished because his anger was fueled by a different kind of emotion altogether, one that arose from being terribly misunderstood and constrained from revealing the truth. It was the kind of truth that quickly turned into a burning furnace which covered him in a sense of irritation that would not disperse.

“It is better to be without wits than apply them as you do Dean.”

“Oh right, because you know best.”

“I _do_ know best and you should be conscious of that,” Castiel said in a low tone that was like a warning instead of a simple statement which immediately drew out the younger man's stare again. This time, the two of them assessed each other with a magnitude of emotions.

"Wow, so finally you're playing the power card on me? _You_ of all people? Suddenly age makes a whole lot of difference, am I right?"

"I will not justify such a nonsensical question because I am far too convinced of the truth."

Dean could only stare because he could not digest the salty responses which were far too hurtful to bear. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you really trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Hardly, when you are obviously very correct in your opinions as opposed to anyone else’s,” Castiel returned with sarcasm that was too surprising and unearthed a look of disbelief from Dean. "You're always right, aren't you? Never easy to admit that you may be lacking clarity. Never wishing to admit that you're wrong and such behavior always troubles me."

“Well you’re beginning to piss me the hell off!" Dean fired back, fists clenched as he glared with burning eyes. "And if you think so differently about this, I think we should stop talking about it because it’s frustrating me—"

“Dean, don’t you dare speak to me like that,” Castiel said suddenly, in a very serious tone that was never used between them but immediately stunned the younger man. The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds whilst the air changed tremendously between them. Then moving to the chair in a haste, he settled into it with a deep scowl, red in the face and arms folded.

Dean made no attempt to answer, and tried to look unconcerned despite the raging emotions inside of his chest because he was feeling very uncomfortable and wanting Castiel very much to be gone.

He did not repent what he had done. He still thought himself a better judge of the situation because of his age and Charlie’s closeness to him. But yet Dean admitted that he respected Castiel’s judgment in general. He always did which made him dislike having it so loudly against his own opinions. And to witness the older man sitting on the chair opposite him so angry, was very disagreeable, it was something passing between them that wasn’t experienced so heatedly before.

When Castiel scolded him in the past, the worst kind of argument usually ended in the two of them joking about their banter and then resorting to friends as before. Of course, a slight bitterness was felt on either side, but the dust settled in a matter of minutes.

However, half an hour passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt on Dean’s side to remark on the weather, but the older man didn’t reply. And it was evident from there that the two of them bruised each other enough to cause a rift that would last longer than before.

The tension thickened so much that Castiel could not even spare a glance in his direction but sat there stiffly, staring at the kitchen door and no matter how many times Dean called his name, his only response was to blink those blue eyes that glistened with tears. Such a display of complete degradation of composure was something that he couldn’t ever recall witnessing before when he was the cause of it. Dean felt so destroyed from losing control of his words and anger that even his own vision clouded from tears because the cracks between them were opening up so wide enough to swallow every single sliver of love that ever existed.

“I really think that it’s about time for dinner. I should call dad in,” he said softly, rising from the window seat but he was stopped abruptly by the other man speaking after more than half an hour.

“I suppose it’s understandable,” Castiel said sadly, blinking back the tears and reaching up to dab at the corner of his eyes with a knuckle. “I know that your love for matchmaking has a personal desire that you don’t wish to admit to. You’re so desperate to be loved that you try to fuel that passion into creating couples everywhere else except finding someone to share your life with. This entire matter is highly offensive.”

“I don’t need anyone to love me. I’m unlovable and I’m not worth it—”

"Dean, you are not unlovable!" the older man cried out hoarsely. "Do you believe so little of yourself that others are left with no choice?"

"Why the hell not?" Dean shrugged and felt his chest tighten, "who would love a fucked up and boring person like me?" He startled when Castiel suddenly rose up and strode towards the door, fists clenched and terribly shaken.

Immediately, Dean followed, trembling inside from the reaction by the older man and fearing the worst. Castiel, eager to depart, was already halfway to the fence and it was then decided that their friendship was over. This was the moment that would break them forever, permanently too and Dean was far too much in pain at that point to believe otherwise. But after lingering by the door and feeling his heart cry out in pain from the displeasure caused by their argument, the older man turned around abruptly and headed back towards the house.

Instantly Dean’s spirits lifted because he was so certain now that their row was over and like old times, the two of them would be having a wonderful conversation after dinner. Everything would be brushed under the rug as a bad slip of the tongue and nothing more because their bond was too strong to allow such frivolous matters to come between them.

“Thought you’d come back because we’ll always be the best of friends, right? Like brothers even. Bros fight but arguments aside, we always patch things up.” He couldn’t help but smile despite his wet eyes.

But Castiel wasn’t smiling, in fact he was scowling deeper than before and clearly angrier as well. “No, I came back to say this, Dean. As you make no secret that you are so inclined to match Charlie with someone else, and since that person isn’t me, I would only assume that you have another suitor in mind. And as an acquaintance of yours,” the reference to their absence of being best friends wounded Dean, “if I might hint to you, that if Crowley is the chosen man, then Crowley will not do. He’s spiteful and a bad character despite his priesthood and he is never going to be inclined to her _that_ way because she is definitely _not_ his type.”

“What do you mean she’s not his type?” Dean’s throat hurt terribly from the pain the two of them could feel increasing and tormenting during each second.

“Crowley is not interested in women. I’ve only found this out recently after my brother confided in me but that is not enough to cement my suspicions on his bad character for there is more that I have been on the receiving end of and you are completely blinded by.”

“Then why can’t you tell me, Cas?” Dean tried so hard to soften the wedge between them, in fact he pleaded. “Why do I get the feeling that there are so many things you just don’t tell me? You think it that doesn’t hurt when you keep secrets from me?”

“I am entitled to my own private life whether you like that or not.”

“Then fine, have it your way,” Dean said bitterly whilst nodding, “go on. Do what you have to do because none of it concerns me. ”

“Stop being so stubborn and self-centered, Dean, because you are exhausting me and right now I cannot think without my head feeling like it's about to burst, I…" Castiel let out a shaky sigh and offered a wounded look and he rushed on, "we are past this, in every possible way, where you are not a child anymore and I should not have to treat you as such. And when you were a child, there were things that you needed to learn, things that were important enough to provide you with an open mind. But I am clearly not impressed by your decision to harshly judge others, and I am disappointed by your lack of empathy for the livelihood of people who deserve your respect."

"Far more so, it saddens me. It really does because this is not the young man I am in love with—” he was proceeding so hastily that he stopped, eyes widening, then he startled and stared as if suddenly stricken by a heart attack. Stepping back immediately, Castiel swallowed hard and could only remain silent because his mind had raced ahead and delivered the truth which had been locked inside a metal box securely.

The man he…

Dean literally felt like he couldn’t breathe after analyzing such a statement and studying blue eyes to discover a contradiction. None, however, could be found, none at all and therefore the kind of coldness from nervousness and anxiousness washed him over immediately.

No, it couldn’t be. He didn’t hear correctly. He _couldn’t_ have heard correctly.

“Cas?” He tried instead, feeling his hands literally trembling from uncertainty, from hanging on the precipice of fear and doubt and so many more things that he was never privy to but things that opened up cracks inside of him and bled out insecurities and anger and pain, so much pain. “The person you’re in love with…” he began, every word terribly brutalizing his throat, “are you trying to say that…is that person…” Dean’s eyes filled with tears even more as Castiel blinked through his own.

"No."

"No _what_ , Cas?"

The older man swallowed hard and stared back as if blinded by his own declaration and completely wounded by it. Shaking his head and inhaling deeply, Castiel unclenched his fists and stared angrily into green orbs. When the wind swept in and whipped the trees, filling the air with the sound of rustling leaves, the two of them stared at each other for a long time.

“Cas?” Dean croaked, taking a step forward and immediately feeling the harshness of the distance created when Castiel retreated. “Cas, talk to me, dammit!” he pleaded, his voice strained enough.

But only silence until whatever it was between them that remained as a sliver of hope shattered into tiny pieces. There was nothing but the sensation of a gut-wrenching jab that twisted every single second he was deprived of an answer. It was so insane, the refusal to talk to him, to even spare him the truth after they were best friends for so many years that Dean started to cry because he couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t even understand why he was crying except that the pain and the confusion was far too worse to tolerate.

“Are you in love with _me_?” he tried again, this time the words came out hoarsely and he tasted salty tears that burned the back of his nose. But Castiel refused to provide a response and maybe he was breaking down completely through his own disbelief by the slip of his tongue, but he could never ascertain the kind of damage his silence inflicted on the younger man.

"Cas!" Dean kept trying, fists clenched and chest heaving. “Is that it? You’re just going to leave me hanging, you son of a bitch, you say something right _now_ ,” he warned, losing his composure, “or else—”

Turning abruptly, Castiel strode away and even though Dean tried to move from the spot on the porch, even though he tried to run, to say _something,_ nothing happened. Nothing at all was successful on his part, the soles of his feet rooted to the wood and the hurricane inside of his chest too severe and too destructive. And whilst he watched Castiel’s figure become smaller down the path, Dean slumped onto the topmost step, and he couldn’t contain his anger, his frustration, his fears anymore.

"Castiel!" he cried hoarsely, dying through every second inside as the worst kind of doubt settled in and poisoned him slowly.

He buried his face into shaking hands and sobbed without a care in the world if anyone discovered his weakness at that point.

It was a long time since the kind of trauma that destroyed him was felt with such force, if there ever was a time prior in which he experienced such a thing. Dean didn’t believe that he ever before passed through the severity of several emotions at once; confusion, conflict, anxiousness, nervousness, anger, self-denial, embarrassment, disrespected, misunderstood…

Castiel’s lack of response kept forming little bubbles inside of his mind in terms of ‘what-if’ scenarios and no matter how Dean fought the eventuality of a migraine, his composure wasn’t that strong. It came on anyway, hammering inside his skull and bringing with it also a rush of hot, scalding tears that were mostly from frustration of losing his certainty on many things he thought were established before.

Dean understood that he needed to address the real issue clinging to his sanity like a parasite, but no matter how many times his brain tried to lift the question to the surface, he subconsciously buried it down just enough. He submerged the doubts because there was no substantial proof to ascertain what he believed was the actual truth; that his best friend, his guardian and older companion, a man who was like his brother to him could actually _love_ him.

Castiel couldn’t be in love with _him._

Dean wasn’t capable of being loved in that way, especially not deserving to be by someone like Castiel Novak; a man of extensive knowledge and wealth, who possessed an abundance of goodness and happiness, pursuant of a comfortable future secured with a wife and children. A man who loved endlessly and forgave easily, who corrected without ill intentions and showered him with so much comfort and understanding and praise.

Clearly, he misunderstood the conversation, whereas Castiel absolutely meant in every way possible that he loved Dean in the same way he loved him for many years. But every single time his mind tried to pick the conversation apart, he remembered how those blue eyes filled up with tears too fast and then the absence of any denial to the ridiculous claims proved that there was more. There was something that he could not embrace because he lacked the confirmation and because Castiel refused to provide one, the air was open to many opinions.

He wasn’t capable of anyone loving him or being _in_ love with him. Therefore he held onto that statement and he didn’t wish to let go no matter how much his heart proved otherwise by beating wildly, trying to unhinge him every time he thought of Castiel actually seeing him as a potential match.

* * *

Dean’s suspicions were highlighted when the older man missed dinner the night after and then the following night, he excused himself because of a meeting with a client that lasted past the hour of six. Never did those excuses ever serve as such importance to miss the company of even John or Ellen or Bobby. And it was all too obvious why to him but never quite certain to them why the chair remained empty and the path untrodden day after day.

Their argument had obviously ended their friendship permanently and at that point, he was too destroyed by the actuality of it to even doubt the consequences of his actions. A full blown argument like never before, and then a hasty confession that tore them apart, ripped his heart into pieces because he couldn't breathe. Dean couldn't sit in one attitude for too long and gain a sense of peace without literally feeling a searing pain inside his chest quite definitive of a heartbreak that it terrified him in so many ways.

If he was suffering from such a thing, then there must be an origin, there must be a beginning because there was a brutal end. But where did they begin? Where was the solid evidence that _he_ was as invested in this as Castiel seemed to be and what was the meaning of the proclaimed love? All of these questions built up and suffocated him that even his family could not reach him inside a bubble constructed of pure fear.

Sunday though, brought with it the kind of frustration that ended up pushing him to exert the anger in his father’s workshop.

Alongside Bobby and John, he surprised them both by working extensively on the Impala by throwing buckets of water and polishing until his joints ached. Then Dean helped them tackle two other jobs by actually getting under one of the cars and fixing the problem in no time. He skillfully utilized the tools, checked the oil levels and changed tires, then working even after the sun went down, he didn’t show any signs of stopping. And if it wasn’t for John being so aware of his son’s behavior, he would have mislabeled the entire exertion of energy as an epiphany.

The situation was rare, John noted, when his son would become so angry enough to keep going at something until actual tears leaked from his eyes. Batting those tears away though, he stared as Dean’s countenance contorted from fighting too much conflicting emotions and then after he could not stomach the tragedy, John put an immediate stop to it.

Bobby couldn’t spare a word from the younger man also and neither could Ellen who tried effortlessly to squeeze out the root of the problem. No one could reach him, not even Charlie who was avoided and given every excuse possible to stay away because he was either suffering from a migraine or too tired to hang out. But everyone understood what was occurring even without the words drifting out into the open; that something was far too broken inside of Dean and when he needed them, he would seek their comfort in due time.

The refrigerator needed stocking up constantly as he binged on fruits, then frosted sponge cake and consumed an entire meatloaf in one day. Dean then prepared hotdogs, hamburgers and sandwiches oozing with cheese until the scale reflected a five pounds difference in three days. And still he couldn't cease the display of evident signs of a heartbreak; especially when Ellen observed that he chose to ghost through the house in his pajamas throughout the entire day.

Then came the worst kind of occurrence ever whilst helping Ellen in the kitchen, possibly the one moment in Dean's life where he literally felt like his heart was breaking into a million pieces and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Here," Ellen said, dialing a number on the telephone with her hands covered in flour and reaching quickly for the bottle of vanilla essence, "ask Cas if he wants two of the lemon cakes, or one plain sponge and the other lemon."

"Huh?" Dean stared, immediately growing cold after collecting the phone.

"Boy, get your head out the clouds and back on your feet," his nanny scolded whilst plugging in the mixer and working hastily as always. "You've been lost for a while now, and it ain't doing you any favors. If you can't talk about it, then work through it, like I always tell you to."

The phone rang three times, long and deafening inside Dean's right ear whilst he stood there and his knees weakened. Hands growing colder, he couldn't even breathe and there he was hoping for the line to ring out when it was picked up.

"Novak's residence, good afternoon," came Castiel's gravelly tone that sounded rather strange than usual, almost as if he was ravished by a cold.

"Cas," Dean said simply, almost drowning in the connection but suddenly very conscious of Ellen's presence. "Uh," he cleared his throat, "how are you, man?" he tried in an uneven tone which immediately tugged the older woman's attention onto him. Their eyes met and Ellen quickly softened her stare into a worried gaze. "You good?" he added when there was just silence.

"Yes?"

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm aware."

"Look," Dean sighed and his eyes fluttered close, "dad's been asking about you not coming over. He's called two times, the least you can do is pick up and talk to him."

"Okay," Castiel said softly.

"I know you're avoiding me, okay?"

"It's work."

"Great," the younger man nodded, turned away from Ellen and fought the tears burning his eyes. "You know, we always have plenty to say and now it's just down to the ones and twos. If you want to hurt me," he said softly whilst walking away from his nanny who was clearly eavesdropping, "it's working, man. And you can stop now. I'm not okay."

Breathing. Just…a steady sound that tormented Dean until he actually felt the tears slipping through.

"Ellen wants to know if you want a sponge and a lemon or two lemons," he croaked, pressing the tip of his finger onto the corner of his eye.

"Let me talk to her," Castiel said, his voice very level unlike before.

Dean though, was so stunned that he nodded, inhaled deeply and understood the status of their friendship. "Screw you, Cas," he whispered, and quickly, he handed over the phone, and avoiding eye contact, he escaped Ellen's prodding eyes.

On Monday after he returned upstairs to take a long hot shower, Dean collapsed in bed from frustration. The tears didn’t come, the frustration remained and when he was in doubt, there was only one thing that Dean highly favored to find the answers. He needed to face the fire and either stick his hand in or continue enjoying the uncomfortable warmth generated from the distance and pain and doubts.

Collecting his phone, he opened WhatsApp with trembling hands and he searched for the name that caused his heart to painfully squeeze from a feeling that he could not decipher, no matter how hard he tried to. The small display photo still remained the same; the two of them squeezed together inside the Impala with Dean's eyes immensely green and Castiel's own light blue like the sky. And after opening the chat window, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard until he simply started with four words.

**Hi. I miss you.**

But when the message wasn’t read in half an hour although delivered, he glared at Castiel’s LAST SEEN as five hours ago and Dean turned on his side. So much for trying, he thought, in vain and without patience. If he deleted the message then it would be displayed as such, so naturally, he was left with no choice but to wait. Locking his phone, he tried to sleep, he really did but every five minutes, he kept tapping on the screen to discover if any new messages arrived.

There were none.

At midnight, he just about cracked from the pressure of two bright blue ticks and Castiel’s LAST SEEN as one hour prior and after sitting up in bed, anger consumed him as he began to type. Feverishly, Dean tapped away on the small keyboard, tears burning his eyes and blurring his vision as the world around him muted painfully and everything seemed so daunting.

**12:15am - Twenty-five years of being the one I look up to, the one that means so much to me, and you can’t even spare me a goddamn response. It’s been three days now, Cas. Three damn days since you walked away from me. And I’ve been trying so hard not to walk up to your front door and get you to talk to me but I know enough when someone needs space.**

**12:30am - I can’t do this anymore, Cas. I really can’t sit around and keep assuming all the things that you don’t have the courage to say. It hurts and I’m not okay with it. I’m so damn mad at you right now but I’m also so damn broken that you’re avoiding me and you can’t talk to me.**

**12:45am - What do you want us to do from here? Do you me to come over? I'd come over now if it means that you'll explain what the hell is happening. Do you want me to call you and we can talk? Do you want me to stay away? Do you want to start over? Because I can’t start over twenty years of friendship that we built together.**

**1:00am - CAS PLEASE ANSWER ME.**

**1:30am - I’m begging you. I can’t lose you, man. I can’t live without seeing your face every day. I miss you so much.**

Immediately, and surprising Dean that he was still up after midnight, Castiel was typing.

He typed for a long time, heightening Dean’s fears of a long paragraph that would terminate their friendship forever. But then when the response came afterwards, he was certain that Castiel had been debating on many things to express or he wasn’t skilled at touch typing on the phone.

**I don’t want us to start over. All I really need is time. Can you find it inside yourself to erase the anger and replace it with those twenty years that we shared thus far with so many good things in between? Please give me some space. I’ll come to you when I’m leveled enough to do so. But right now, I am not.**

Dean stared at the message a long time before his fingers itched until a reply was sent and even when he stared at his response, his heart dulled to a painful ache.

**Okay, fine, you know you can tell me anything you want. I’m always here for you, man. And I know it's weird to say this now because of what happened before, but I love you, Cas.**

The immediate typing which lasted for a full two minutes and then…

**You do? I don't believe that after my recent behavior. We will talk later. Good night.**

But the opportunity never presented itself until three days after and by then, Dean’s anger faded immensely and he was prepared to become Castiel’s close friend again, if the other man would let him. After all, at the moment he could not ascertain that the feelings were mutual, but he was willing to love Castiel in any way he could without ending the bond they built so many years together. He was willing to sit down and talk to him, to learn more at least, to offer an apology and plead for forgiveness.

Dean was so convinced though, that it was just simply a one-sided affair.

But he would be proven wrong.

"Son, there are lessons in life we learn from," John showed up the next morning bright and early in his son's room and parted the curtains wide enough to welcome a bright ray of sunshine.

Groaning, Dean rolled over, squinted at the light and reached for his blanket to shield his eyes. "Come on, dad. It's not even seven as yet. Dammit."

"It's early enough for me to tell you that your mother, had she been around, would have loved you regardless. Same as me, and I know Sam would too," John assessed his lawns outside, the air growing colder as winter approached. "What I'm saying is, there's no shame in it."

"In what?" Dean pulled the blanket away from his face and squinted through his sleepy eyes.

John sighed, settled the curtains a little away from the windows and he turned to face his son who was considering him with a definite frown. "Seen you go through it two times and this ain't any different. Damn heartbreaks are hard to avoid and this time, this one's wrecking you plenty enough to raise some concern in everyone."

"Dad," Dean's throat closed up when he finally understood where the conversation was leading to and despite his fears of being misunderstood, he wasn’t prepared to receive a scolding from his father. "I'm not going through a heartbreak. You've got to be in love to go through one of those. And I'm not."

"Well I'll be damned. If you ain't in love then Elton John ain't gay and we both know what's what so maybe…you got to do a little soul searching or something to come to terms with what the hell is going on between you and Castiel."

"There's nothing happening, Jesus," Dean lied and immediately was drenched in cold sweat when he realized that he attached religion to the deed. "Why is everyone so damn quick to jump to conclusions?"

John actually laughed, threw his head back and laughed heartily before wiping his eyes. "So, Cas been missing dinner not because of you? Tell me, you think I'm stupid or lost my hearing after you two went off the other day inside the damn house? You think I didn't come around the house and saw you crying your damn eyes out whilst he walked the hell away? Dean, what the hell is wrong with you? You're going to lie to your own father now?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"We'll talk about it now because you need to fix whatever it is."

"I'm trying," Dean said in a strained tone, obviously wounded and frustrated at that point and it was so early already. "I'm trying and he doesn't want to patch things up so what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Try harder, son."

"Dad, you have no idea what's happened and even if you did, I don't think you'd understand."

"What I understand," John said softly, folding his arms and becoming saddened by the tears in his son's eyes, "is that there comes a time when things get too obvious not to notice. I've been around, Dean, been around long enough to see how people react and interact and it's a damn shame that you're so gullible like your mother. When the truth is staring you right in the face, you can't even know it."

Dean rolled over and stared at the door whilst his heart hammered away inside of his chest. What was this? An interrogation? But to what ends? What was his father privy to that he clearly wasn't aware of?

"Blind as a bat. You know, I could give you a good thrashing if you weren't so damn older, and I'd still give you one just because. What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" John asked heatedly and considered Dean with a look of disbelief. "Fix it and fix it fast because he's not doing so good. Been over there to see how he's faring after he been avoiding dinners and he looks like he's been through a roller and came out bruised as hell. You look no far from the same thing, worse than what the cat drags in. And you two are better than this, man. Getting so petty over something I'm sure is small and insignificant compared to how much you love each other. Get it off your chest and make things right."

Swallowing hard, and clearly realizing that his father obviously had no clue what the truth was, because if he did, he wouldn’t ascertain that fixing things was so easy, Dean nodded. "Sure, I will."

"You gonna fix it?"

"I am," Dean groaned again and rolled over. "Now can you leave? I've got an hour at least to catch some shut eye."

"How are you going to fix it?"

"I'll work on it, okay? I'll…find a way."

"You better do that soon," John was staring, arms still folded. "Buy him flowers, get him chocolates."

"He doesn't like chocolates," Dean rolled his eyes and wished that he could press MUTE so that the room would grow silent again and then he wouldn't have to suffer through his own guilt. "He prefers vanilla."

"Your mom's looking down at you, you remember that. Don't hurt her best friend."

Consume me with more reasons to despise myself at this point, Dean thought silently, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the older man to leave.

"Relationships work when both people balance things," John said after reaching the door and by then, his son was staring in disbelief. "You two been boyfriends way too long to let a little smoke burn down a whole fairytale. Kiss and make up. Damn shame you hide it so well from me I ain't ever seen you two getting handsy around me. As you were."

And when he left the room, Dean's chest was drenched with so much coldness that he weakly squeaked before sinking into the sheets once more.

Relationship?

Did his father honestly believe that he and Castiel were…

"Fuck," Dean stared at the window and couldn't breathe because after all these years when he obviously wasn't dating or in a relationship with another woman, John thought that there was so much more happening.

When there wasn't…


	8. Chapter 8

**Excerpt:**

_“I am completely in love with you.”_

_Dean stopped breathing and stared back with widened eyes, because nothing could have prepared him for the confession. This time, they weren’t rushing out words and facing each other with anger. This time Castiel was looking at him like he was awaiting a glass ball to drop down and shatter between them._

* * *

Castiel’s job suddenly swept him out of Littleton and into Canada for three days, or at least that’s what Dean was told. But based on his suspicions at the beginning of learning the news, he admitted that it was a blatant lie to separate the two of them further without having the conversation that was promised.

However, after John highlighted that Balthazar accompanied the younger Novak on the business trip to meet a client who was not fortunate enough to travel, Dean was left to drown in embarrassment over his wrongful assumptions. And again and again he was proven to be the only one who seemed to be acting absolutely out of place because of the whole ordeal.

In actuality, Castiel’s lack of communication on any platform shouldn’t have heightened any suspicions for the older man never used those mediums prior. So, naturally the conversation would be most suited face to face according to traditional customs as ascertained by a careful understanding of his friend’s character.

Throughout the three days though, Charlie had no time to spare based on her job and balancing the orphanage’s demands as well. Therefore, Dean was left to silently process everything whilst trying with great pains to distract himself from dabbling in a lot of overthinking. But it wasn’t as if she didn’t present the opportunity for them to have any kind of conversation. They both could pick up the phone and call, which she did every night after returning to Saint Anne’s and there were messaging platforms to speak about anything.

Dean though, was not ready to divulge any of what happened with anyone for various reasons.

Firstly, if Castiel was indeed of the impression that he was misconstrued, then all of this would be brushed under the mat. There would be no further reason to worry or to reassess their friendship and everything would return to the way they were. They would try to erase the hurt from their last conversation and try to move past the moment one day at a time.

Secondly, if Castiel was speaking from the heart, then the strictest confidence would be desired because it was nobody else’s business but theirs in finding a solution. Dean believed that he could stomach that kind of truth, after all, he was prepared to do whatever it took to maintain their bond but if Castiel could not continue as friends and wished to separate them for a length of time, then he would have to suffer through it.

Lastly, whatever may be changed between them was again no one’s business but theirs and therefore not even Charlie or Ellen could become privy to the affair until it was both decided that a third party could intervene.

Dean didn’t believe that the matter would be escalated to include anyone else. At that point, he was convinced that it was all a misunderstanding and his mind was conjuring up ways to create paranoid situations to increase his anxiety.

What made matters worse though, was the inability of Castiel to be proven wrong by his statements in any possible way.

One night after deliberating on whether to reach Charlie at the presbytery after crafts club or to linger inside the house, quite bored out of his mind, he decided on the former. Charging his phone to the maximum before leaving though, with the ringing warning of his best friend's lamentations to never let such a thing ever occur again like the very unfortunate rainy night, Dean set out for a long walk after three on a lovely Sunday.

It so happened that just as he was brushing through the gardens in the churchyard and growing quite irritated by highlighting Castiel even as he cast his eyes on two idling bees resting on sunflowers, no other than Crowley showed himself. Now Dean could have been less bothered by the appearance of the gloomy white robes which bore nothing but a warning of uneasiness. But he persevered to establish a kind of lighthearted sense of their meeting, hoping that nothing would arise from it that may suggest a further discomfort.

"Ah, Dean Winchester," the older man seemed delighted by the meeting, coming to stand very close to Dean who recognized the invasion of his space and drifted away, "quite a surprise. Did you fancy coming to see me or rather it so happened that your mind led you here?"

Blinking at the flowers and inwardly impressed by the boldness, Dean cleared his throat and settled on turning away. "Actually I'm here to meet Charlie…"

"More than half an hour left. Why don't you step inside the rectory for a glass of lemonade…"

He was rather thirsty, but would choose sucking the nectar from a flower than accompanying the likes of the suspiciously eager man inside. But after deciding that mannerism would display his evident maturity, Dean obliged and followed the Deacon into the space that felt colder than warmer as it should be.

"I suppose you are well by now, after catching such an awful cold the other day," Crowley didn't select another piece of chair but chose to sit next to the younger man with a satisfied grin on his round face. "You should be careful. Sparkles might not be around to rescue you every single time…"

"Sparkles?" Dean frowned, very prickly inside and yet discovering that the lemonade was beautiful on his palate.

Crowley offered the smallest of smiles. "Castiel, of course. Didn’t you _know_? He gained the nickname from using an excessive amount of glitter during a craft class many years ago when we were lads. He was covered in it by the time he left and even your father thought it to be the funniest thing he ever saw."

Dean swallowed a mouthful of the refreshment and decided to nod without establishing eye contact. "Didn't know that."

"The world is a cruel place."

"Tell me something I don't know." Casting his stare off towards the window and through it, the younger man wished that he was outside rather than in. "Hey, who does your gardening?"

"Marlene from River Valley. Your inner enthusiast spirit intrigues me. More so, it inspires me to know more."

"I don't feel like I'm _that_ impressive," Dean scoffed and folded his fingers, studying them whilst the air between them grew warmer and uncomfortable. "I'm just an ordinary dude who wants world peace."

Crowley chuckled as if it was the funniest statement in the entire universe and then he boldly reached out and collected the empty glass from the younger man's grasp. "Self-denial does not wear well on you, Dean. Men like you are too astonishing even to yourselves to realize the truth and when you do realize it, you're living in a cottage somewhere with a boring lass and lots of children."

"Your point is?" their eyes met and green ones narrowed.

"Live a little," Crowley encouraged with a twinkle in his stare. "Take one for the team. I've sold the gospel to sinners for many years and how far did it get them? Definitely here without trying. All I'm saying is, I'm a lover. Not a fighter and I'm on the good side. The good side only rewards those who try. You have to break a few eggs to get an omelet, am I right?

What the hell was he even trying to say?

Dean's frown deepened and then he was utilizing so many brain cells to decipher the hidden message that a dull throbbing began behind his temples.

"I should probably stretch my legs." Standing up, he was determined to reach the door and his fingers grasped the knob in what felt like two seconds. "Have a good one, padre." And quickly, he tumbled out into the sunshine, panting for air because his lungs had been restricted from functioning for the past half an hour.

Among the flowers and bees once more, Monarch butterflies kissed tulips and weeds of grass danced next to his black boots. And maybe he was insane for drowning in wishful thinking, but he could actually tune in on Castiel's low excited rumble of conversation if he tried a little. The small laugh that grew when the conversation became funnier as it always was between them. The small smile and flushed face, graceful hands that touched petals of flowers and that awful trench coat that became brushed by the wind and gave him the appearance of innocent accountant he was.

And what about his father who somehow believed that after all this time, his own son was in a relationship with the older man? A relationship? Really? Was John so determined to prove his son a fool by suggesting something like that? Or had he really been serious? Everyone at that point appeared to be aligning their thoughts of a possible match between himself and Castiel and there he was completely dubious to the whole ordeal.

"Dean, a prezzy," Crowley showed up anyway inside the garden, bearing a cupcake topped off with green frosting. The sprinkles on top were so colorful, that he was so tempted to swipe his finger across the softness and dip it into his mouth. "Take it home or consume it immediately. Doesn't hurt to have a little thrill."

The snack was placed in a small plastic container and handed over, but a little hand kept tugging at his gut, begging him to refrain from consuming the delicacy for reasons he could not decipher in that moment.

But after the Deacon retreated and left him standing there, Dean suddenly allowed his mind to fall prey once again to a certain someone who would have adored such a thing. Castiel always fancied cupcakes of any kind, because he was the most adorable human being Dean had ever met in his entire life. Sweet treats were his weakness, which is why for a long span of time in his teens, he baked an assortment of those for his best friend, the one man who promised that he would never give up on someone like him…

Was love supposed to be so painful, despite the type?

Was it normal for someone to walk away and avoid the person he claimed to love more than himself?

Dean felt his phone vibrating inside of his pocket and he tugged it out, frowning at the PRIVATE number displayed on the screen. Most times, he refrained from answering blocked numbers, but this time, that little tugging began again and despite his inability to ascertain what was the reason behind a small amount of discomfort, he slid the answer icon and pressed the mobile to his ear.

"Hi, good afternoon." As cheerful as his greeting was, there was none in return but the flat sound of nothing. "Hello?" Dean tried again, frowning at the grass by his boots and toeing a small round rock.

"Dean," came that voice that may never be wiped away from his memory, no matter how long they were separated. "Can you hear me?"

"Cas?" his lung deflated like a balloon and he fought to breathe, doubling over a little and reaching for a wrought iron arch that was consumed by vines and white flowers. Green eyes didn't quite study the details of the statue of Mary clasping a rosary, but to an onlooker, it might appear that he was intensely focused on her face. "I can hear you."

"I tried…calling…line…bad," the signal came and went and because Dean was so pressed by pent up emotions from what happened between them, he felt tears burn his eyes immediately. "Are you…."

"Cas, I can't hear you," his voice was so strained, repeatedly being hammered by a constricting throat and the inability to breathe. "Go that over again."

"Are you well?" the older man's tone was low and so distant that the existence of towers all across the country and across borders may be the worst kind of tragedy to have ever happened because why couldn't they even be able to listen to each other? Why were the signals crossed? Was this a sign that things were breaking up between them?

"No, I'm not," he said in a voice that not his own, swallowing hard and lowering himself onto a small stone bench near the statue of Mary. "Cas, I'm not doing so good, man."

"Dean, I didn't get that—"

"Of course, you wouldn't. You didn't even think I deserve the truth and then you left. Goddammit, Cas. How the hell could you do that to me? _Me_? Don’t I deserve the truth? Why would you—"

"I'm sorry but the line…breaking up—"

"I can't do this, man," Dean's voice cracked and tears clouded his eyes, "I can't continue like this all by myself when you…" the slow continuous beeping that signaled the call was disconnected caused him to stare wide eyed at nothing in particular until his chest became so cold.

Then burying his face into hands that trembled a little, Dean tried to take measured breaths because the signs were there already, so evident that he became entirely frightened. It had been years since the last one, a panic attack which consumed him so terribly that he clawed the ground and crawled towards the back of the house on all fours until John discovered him. Unable to breathe and gasping, whatever happened afterwards was a blur, but when he came to, Sam was hovering over him and now…there was no one but nature which was had always been so soothing and the chirping of birds.

If he gazed upon their attachment as someone in their immediate family then of course he might ascertain that something deeper was happening between himself and Castiel. They were too familiar with each other, too intimate at times by holding hands and brushing arms on the window seat. Sometimes Castiel leaned in a little too close when he enjoyed a good laughter, sometimes they shared cups of tea. They were so domesticated and comfortable with each other that Dean possibly had never realized the impression they must have given other people close to them until now…

His father was convinced that they were a couple…

In that moment Dean understood what it was like to feel absolutely alone whilst in the eye of a storm.

\-------------------------

After Ellen and Bobby announced the traditional Christmas dinner would be accommodated at their house, everything sour and disheartening was placed on the back burner.

Along with the entire Winchester family, Charlie, Donna, Jody were all invited with high hopes of including Balthazar and Castiel although they weren’t expected back for that evening. Claire on the other hand mysteriously disappeared again and for a long time since Dean’s encounter with her, decided that she preferred to skip town and dwell among some old chums. And although his mind kept wandering back to his best friend and how he must have taken the news about his daughter pulling a disappearing act again, the joy of a family dinner for the season was too glorious to dampen his spirits.

On the evening in question, just as he was dressed in a fine maroon colored long-sleeved shirt with khaki pants, his father announced from the bottom of the staircase that a surprise awaited him outside. Curious and obviously expecting Charlie decked out in her Christmas best, he stumbled downstairs, collected his keys and ventured outdoors. And soon enough, after setting his eyes on the four people gathered on the front lawn, Dean’s heart immediately washed over in a cold sensation that arose from severe shock and an abundance of anxiousness.

There Castiel stood, dressed handsomely in a dark green pants suit, tie twisted backwards and chatting with Charlie who was laughing gaily. And alongside John, Balthazar was animatedly explaining something that unearthed a loud chuckle but the latter pair did not suffocate Dean as much as one person in particular. Therefore, after blinking in shock and blue eyes merely registering him without a hint of delight to be in each other’s company again, he locked the door and joined the group of people.

“Since you have to pick up Donna and Jody,” John began, casting a glance between Castiel and his son, “Balthazar can come with me and you can take Charlie, Cas and the pair—”

“I’m quite delighted to take your company,” Castiel immediately said with the slightest of smiles. “After all, we still need to discuss the loan as much as we can before your visit to the bank tomorrow.”

John was left to scrutinize Dean’s face, and after noting that his son seemed clearly affected by his best friend’s decision, he sighed and could only comply since Castiel was not a man to be easily persuaded. Anyone in that moment could decipher that something was amiss between the two but since neither party cared to offer any hints to whatever was the matter, nothing could be done to address it.

“Hi, Cas,” Dean said, closing the distance between them and feeling like his chest would explode, “welcome back. You were missed.”

“Hello, Dean,” the older man nodded, the wind drifting Old Spice towards his friend’s nose and with Charlie by his side, she wasn’t spared either. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too. How was your--” Dean tried to add but apparently Castiel’s haste fueled his steps to follow John without even remaining for a reply or a continuation of the conversation. “Great,” the younger man nodded, eyes latched onto his friend’s retreating figure and he swallowed. “Just…great. Dammit.”

Charlie, of course, was quick to assess and evidently eager to learn a little more until Balthazar planted himself between them and studied the younger man with a brilliant smile.

“Unfortunately,” he offered in his comforting British accent, “my brother seems to find your company less enthralling than he finds this young lady here,” Balthazar rested a palm on Charlie’s back and smiled down at her. “Does it bother you that he—”

“We should get going,” Dean grumbled, mood obviously altered and heading towards the Impala. “Can’t keep Donna and Jody waiting. You,” he gestured to the older man after reaching the car, “in the backseat. Charlie ride up front with me.”

“Whatever did I do to deserve this?” Balthazar ducked into the back of the car though, reeking of expensive cologne and dressed to impress. “Just because you two had a quarrel, it doesn’t mean I’m to suffer from it. I’m the innocent one.”

Dean backed out the Impala from the front yard and their eyes met in the rearview mirror. “Don’t know what you’re talking about but the youngest one rides up front always.”

“So, it’s true then,” Balthazar perched on the end of the seat and leaned in between the two young people, smiling widely, “you are prejudiced to age. I am very handsome. Would you say that perhaps I stand a better chance than my brother?”

“Dude, one more word,” Dean warned, “and I’m throwing you out to walk the rest of the way. You good, Charlie?” Trying to sidestep the topic, he considered the young woman by his side and forced out a smile because Balthazar’s words were too suggestive of something that he didn’t wish to dwell on.

“Yeah, are you?” she eyed him curiously. “What’s up with what happened back there?”

“They broke up,” Balthazar said quickly and then he dramatically clamped a hand onto his mouth, leaning forward just enough to consider the side of Dean’s face. “Oops. Was I not supposed to mention that?”

“Wait, what is he talking about?” Charlie frowned deeply at her friend as the car wound its way through the forest still glowing from the afternoon sun’s rays. Rain still kept threatening to wash the town every day which is why Charlie decided to wear capris instead of long pants. “Dean, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” he lied, staring hard at the road and detesting the older man in the car. “Don’t listen to him and his crazy remarks. One thing you should know about Balt is that he’s the definition of what being overly smart does to you. Gets to your brain and makes you say all kinds of crazy crap.”

Balthazar sighed and relaxed in the backseat. “The truth of the matter, Charlie, is that Dean and Cassie had a quarrel and they haven’t talked to each other in almost a week. A lovers' quarrel, I call it. Many tears were shed.”

“This is where you just shut up and it’s my final warning.”

The car ride to the Mills’ residence was silent afterwards and filled with the sounds of pop songs from the Billboard 100. And after picking up the two other women, one on either side of Balthazar, the three of them in the backseat proceeded to discuss the other man’s trip to Canada and what the weather was like. From there, the conversation about Castiel was never entertained until Charlie caught Dean just before they entered the Singers' warm and comfortable cottage with a beautiful view of the mountains in the background.

“Listen, I know that you don’t want to talk about it right now but whatever happened between you and Cas, it’s going to be okay, right?” Charlie squeezed Dean’s shoulder as they moved up the concrete path welcoming a garden on either side. “And I mean it.”

“I know,” Dean sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “It’s just something that I need to handle on my own but don’t worry, I’ll come to you if I need help. Just let’s enjoy tonight. It’s Christmas!” he rushed forward and held out his arms with a wide smile that felt forced rather than genuine. “The best season of the year, Charlie. Can’t you feel it?”

She studied his wild expression and laughed. “Yeah, it’s the most magical time of the year when people get together, share memories, fall in love, kiss under the mistletoe….”

Startling, Dean glanced up quickly above Ellen’s door and was relieved to discover that no such thing was present.

But although a certain contentment washed over him before entering the cottage, it was soon evaporated when he pinpointed Castiel soon after. Every single emotion rushed back like tidal waves, sweeping him under and suffocating him until he simply hung back in the hallway. And from there, Dean could not breathe, even as he tugged at the collar of his red shirt and tried to gain some kind of control of himself, the moment would not pass.

Everyone passed through and left him there, and by the time he regained his composure and feared the occurrence which terrified him, Dean entered the living room drenched in cold sweat. He was certain that it resembled a panic attack, but never before did something like that ever happen to him so frequently. He didn’t suffer from panic attacks anymore or bouts of anxiety but clearly the sight of Castiel brought on a rush of feelings that were buried for three days and a little more to the surface.

Throughout half the evening, the older man comfortably sandwiched himself between his brother and Charlie and carried on a conversation that was too entertaining to include chuckles and good humor. This left Dean in the company of Ellen, Donna and Jody as Bobby sought out John and whilst his nanny could offer as much comfort as any else could, his dampened spirits soon returned with great force. His mood altered tremendously and trying to conceal such disappointment from being excluded was far too much.

Even though Charlie kept waving him over, Dean could not gather up the courage enough to join because something was clearly happening between himself and Castiel that he could not understand enough to digest. Thus, he was left to feel completely prickly and pained as the three women focused on topics that intrigued him but very soon dulled to light words that held no significance. And sitting in one attitude for over two hours soon fatigued Dean that he was immediately relieved when they were all called in to help themselves to the buffet.

“Dude, you’re missing out,” Charlie glued herself to his side the moment they met in the center of the room. “Balthazar is like so amazing. He was telling me about this scholarship he thinks I would be a good candidate for. But I need to work for at least two years before I can apply.” When Dean smiled down at her, she nudged his shoulder, “Cas was saying that you’re the perfect person to apply. But he says that you don’t want to leave Littleton.”

So, he _was_ included in their conversation.

Dean at least felt somewhat relieved that Castiel desired the best for him still, although their last argument was too damaging enough to separate them by an ocean instead of a few feet across a room. By then though, as he helped himself to delicious food and refreshments, another topic arose of which Dean couldn’t believe he forgot to dwell on.

It was Jo, apparently returned to Canada with intentions too secretive to mention in present company although Ellen confided in him afterwards that she wished not to remain in a town that stifled her growth.

“It’s a damn shame that she thinks we’re too old-fashioned for her,” the older woman said when all company resumed but Charlie joined their midst, leaving the older men to themselves. “The girl’s like her father. Never contented staying one place.”

“Kind of like Claire,” Jody sighed, sipping her beer and casting a look at Dean, “also never delivering on promises like patching things up with poor Cas. Anyone could tell how heartbroken he is from her decision to just leave again.”

“True, he looks bruised and sad as ever, poor thing,” Donna contributed, everyone immediately throwing a glance at the man in discussion, standing by the fire and nodding at John. “Not a smile since the evening began and he looks as pale as a ghost.”

“Well, affairs of the heart do that to ya,” Ellen shook her head in disapproval, “he’s so lonely and badly in need of someone to love him. You know, Cas was such darling in school. Although he was five classes ahead of us, we will all remember how he used to hang with us girls at lunch.”

“Really?” Charlie smiled after regaining her confidence enough to speak up because she was still new, “that’s so sweet!”

Donna nodded and patted her shoulder as if aware of the younger woman’s nervousness. “Sure, sure. The three musketeers and Superman.”

Dean rolled his eyes though and wondered why his chest ached so much from a heavy feeling that would not disappear. “Obviously. Because Cas looked like Clarke Kent in his huge glasses. Go figure.”

All of them laughed as the fire crackled and the soft tunes of ‘Deck the Halls’ surrounded them in the comfort of Ellen’s cottage. John was munching on honey roasted nuts and sticking close to the fire because he always hated the chill of winter. He would lament on the cold as snow was his most hated enemy and yet sometimes when a brainwave occurred, he would venture outside in the midst of it and appear equally contented.

“He was so amazing,” Jody laughed when Charlie stared at them in awe. “Dean probably doesn’t know half of it because no one ever talks about it but your best friend…” she jerked her chin at the other man smiling at something Bobby was explaining to him, “…he was so attractive as a senior, all the girls were begging him to be his prom date. And I mean…all of them. The head of the cheerleading squad, Sasha Fielding too.”

“Wait, didn’t he sleep with Sasha?” Donna spared her wife a curious look, whilst Ellen studied Dean’s countenance and so did Charlie. What they discovered was a piqued interest still affected by something hurtful underlying his small smile and although one was quite certain of why the downcast look appeared, the older one was still left in the dark.

“Well, I lost track after Barbara Myers from our year. Seems like he had a chick for every season.” Jody was far too happy to avoid the conversation.

“That doesn’t sound like Cas at all,” Charlie stared back in awe. “He seems so soft and reserved and—”

“Reserved my cute adorable butt,” Donna provided and sipped her lemonade before continuing. “He was a chick magnet. Courting was his thing. Wouldn't go by a month without sweet talking some gal. Smooth talker, most definitely, he was. And boy was he a kisser back then.”

“No way!” Charlie couldn’t contain her shock and she rested her cup on the floor carefully before considering the smiling women one at a time. Then she turned to Donna who sent her a flushed face and a bright smile. “You…you actually kissed Cas?” of course her obvious crush was displayed before Dean, who studied his friend's face with a careful scrutiny, wondering if her intentions were serious or very much playful.

He remained silent, absorbing all the new information as he realized that he really was clueless about his older friend’s past in more ways than one. Just when he was told on a prior occasion that Castiel only entertained less than two romances, here he was being advised otherwise. And maybe it wasn’t supposed to be hurtful that the secrets between them kept piling up, but he felt pained enough.

“Bet your sweet bippy I did. These two tormented me for months after though. How did it happen? Over good old Spin the Bottle and it was Ellen who dared me to do it because all of us including Mary wanted to find out what was keeping the girls hooked on Cas. Now I can safely say that if I wasn’t as gay as Ellen DeGeneres I’d be smitten over that one.” She smiled at Castiel who, as noticed by everyone except Dean, was gazing at the younger man in their company with quite an intensity neither of them could ignore.

“I think Castiel has his eyes on someone else,” Ellen nudged Charlie and the two of them melted into one another’s arms. “Believe me, he’s smitten, alright.”

“Who?” Dean stared at his nanny, green eyes widening, and wondered what news she was privy to. Did she know? All this time, was there so much truth to their statements that maybe the accusations weren’t so ridiculous at all?

“So, he speaks,” Donna rested her beer on the table beside the chair and grinned. “Was wondering if we’d hear a peep from you. Apparently, you’ve got Castiel’s tongue and he’s got yours.”

When Jody choked on her mouthful of food, Ellen guffawed and Charlie buried her face bashfully into her hands, shaking with giggles. Dean, after realizing that the joke flew over his head, stared at them and tried to understand the meaning but since he was so caught up in anything but the truth, nothing presented itself enough to satisfy his intrigue. And after sighing whilst the laughter died down, he goodhumoredly folded his arms and allowed them the upper hand in being as playful as they pleased.

Gradually though, after they felt entirely ashamed from their reaction, Ellen wandered back to high school again and mentioned that although Mary was in the same class as Castiel, the two of them hardly got along at first. When Charlie asked why, it was Jody who continued.

“Well, Mary competed with Cas for first place in the class in terms of grades. For a long time, the two of them were rivals and she didn’t like us. We didn’t like her either because she was so damn good looking and we were so awkward and plain. But then one day, I think it was in the summer, two guys were harassing her at camp and Cas knocked their lights out.”

“Fist to nose,” Donna dramatized the punches, throwing them dramatically with a humored expression on her round face, “one after the other until John stepped in and finished them off. And from then Mary and Cas became the best of friends because they started to pair up to become the unbeatable top two.”

It just happened, almost miraculously but with a weight that stunned him, when the air in the room became electric and the cause of it was obvious immediately. When Dean’s eyes latched on the older man approaching their party, he stiffened up and awaited the verdict.

“I keep hearing my name,” Castiel offered a small smile at the four ladies and selectively avoided the younger man, whether purposely or without being aware, it wasn’t evident. “Might I ask what I’ve done now?”

“Reminiscing on the good old days,” Jody contributed with a warm chuckle. “when you knocked Terry and Bill out with two punches.”

“Ah, yes. Not my proudest moment but it was the beginning of my friendship with Mary. I also became John’s rival,” Castiel frowned as he held onto his glass of eggnog and studied the green drapes decorated with red chrysanthemums. “He thought that I was becoming romantically interested in his girlfriend.”

“Hooked on the Winchester drug, you are,” Donna chuckled beside Jody who jabbed her sharply. “Oh, right. Hmm. So, how was Canada?”

Castiel, hovering by Dean, leaned in and softly connected his hip with the younger man’s left shoulder and the warmth between them was enough to stir up a quick flutter of butterflies. “Not so bad considering that we barely had time for frolicking. It was all strictly business.”

"Sad," Donna hummed, kissed the lip of her glass and peered around the upturned faces. "What are the odds that you're going to settle down soon, Cas?"

The older man sighed, gingerly bit his lips and raised eyebrows were directed at one of his confidantes; no other than Ellen. "Slim to none, I'm afraid. We can't always have what we most desire, can we?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the chair and leaned in the other direction but the reaction was far too much noticed by two watchful pairs of eyes; Ellen and Charlie. The last words uttered by the older man made him rather conscious of the truth, of the question marks becoming full stops and highlighted statements. And whilst the conversation prolonged between Donna, Jody and Castiel, the women drowned in the obviousness of the situation before them, of what they referred to as ‘intense chemistry’.

"Cas, you missed Dean, huh?" Ellen's mischievous streak shone bright like a diamond. "You two can't go for long without each other. It's a wonder you didn't take him with you along for the trip. A breath of fresh air would do him so much good because he's become so pale recently."

"I'm not pale," Dean said defensively, folding his arms and immediately regretting the decision to do so because his elbow jabbed into the older man's soft warmth even further.

"You've also been doing a lot of binging…"

"So?"

“Since Balthazar wouldn’t do it soon, I hope there’s a Novak wedding in the near future!” John suddenly bellowed from across the room. "Cas? You two got to patch things up. There's no smooth rolls of happiness in any relationship and you two are made for each other, man. All it takes is some good old TLC.”

Charlie watched her friend’s complexion deepen from absolute embarrassment and although she touched his arm to advise that it was just a joke, Dean’s forced smile provided nothing but being completely uncomfortable by his father’s words. He wasn’t uncomfortable for reasons she nor Ellen wished to believe. Dean was far too stunned by his father’s openness on the topic, wondering afterwards if the man really delivered sarcasm or honest feelings. But after Ellen backed John up, it was then when Dean realized that he was unjustly being ridiculed by everyone in the room excluding Bobby.

It was too much to sit there and accept that his family, including his father was of the impression that he shared so much more with Castiel than just a friendship. Gradually, tears burned his eyes because Dean felt somewhat cheated and wronged and although he tried to discover the origin of the discomfort, there were two conflicting thoughts.

Firstly, he didn’t understand how everyone could ascertain the match between himself and Castiel with so much openness and belief. Evidently, they were convinced enough to gather that opinion, and voicing it several times in the open like it was the new norm and in discussion several years ago without his knowledge.

In addition to that, if his own brother was privy to such news and discoveries, then wasn’t it evident that something was wrong with _him_? That he was unfortunate enough to become so prejudiced by perspective that he could not highlight the truth?

Secondly, the manner in which he reacted to Castiel’s nearness was something so new, Dean couldn’t believe how immediate the effect was. Many times before they were in close proximity just as they entertained conversation, but this time was completely different and much more unnerving than any other.

Butterflies…

Dean only experienced such a feeling when he was in Lisa’s presence many years ago and even then, the extra sense of someone taking his heart into a fist and squeezing. Or the weak in the knees feeling when he walked into the room and cast eyes on Castiel were things that he never remembered.

He never felt such a burden on his chest from the absence of conversation with anyone else. He couldn’t ever recall becoming so angry until he cried for more than an hour with any of his exes. Nor could he pinpoint when he missed Lisa and Jo so much in a span of just five days, enough to make his days long and dreary and his nights sleepless and tormenting. And because Dean realized that all these comparisons were with his exes, he became so fearful of the trail of thoughts his mind was creating that everything around him dulled to a heavy mute.

He wasn’t in love with Castiel.

The entire situation was brought on by his belief that Castiel was in love with him, not the other way around because he couldn’t be.

Dean’s fingers felt so cold and his heart weakened to dull beats that he grew dizzy and felt faint because it was like waking up from anesthesia. It was like being under water for so many years and then breaking the surface to discover light and sound and bright colors and feeling so frightened from the world taking on a new look. And because he was suddenly turning the pages of the book into a chapter that never related to him before, Dean became so terrified that he stopped breathing.

By the time his mind drifted back to the room, the chair was entertained by Ellen and Charlie, Jody joined Bobby and Donna was chatting with Balthazar by the window. Therefore, the only two people in the entire room who were awkwardly observing everyone else happened to include the one person that Dean missed more than he ever did before. And because he felt the absence of Castiel so much over the past days, and his mind was so unsettled, and his heart was so tormented, he felt uncomfortable on the chair.

Was he falling in love?

Tears burned his eyes because the situation was so confusing in that moment, based on so many ifs, buts and maybes.

He could be.

The signs were there, so much evident than ever before; and maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder but he felt like he would have died from a heartbreak when Castiel was away in Canada. And maybe embracing the truth was harder for him to process, but it was there, floating around and ready to explode.

“Charlie come and help me with dessert,” Ellen stood up and immediately the younger woman rose too, “let’s leave the two best friends to talk as plenty as they want.”

After throwing Dean an apologetic smile, the younger woman left the seat vacant next to him and as his father guffawed from across the room, Jody entertained her wife and Bobby with a conversation about something quite disinteresting.

At least that’s how he felt when everything else was concerned, in regards to the older man who slowly took up a position on the chair beside him. From there, the inch of distance felt so undeserving that Dean nudged Castiel’s right leg and guiltily prolonged their thighs touching from sheer want of that familiar warmth again that was too addictive and soothing.

“Missed me?” he asked, studying his fingers laced together and on the verge of tears. The tornado was still there swirling around inside his chest, bringing with it the fear of falling in love with his best friend who was a man. Above all, maybe that was the most unsettling thought of all; either learning that another man was in love with him and…or becoming entirely frightened that he would find himself sharing the same feelings too.

Castiel sighed and shifted close enough to bring their shoulders together like old times. “Five days felt like five years without you, Dean.”

The words were so powerful that he couldn’t contain his smile and an overwhelming feeling of contentment. “That’s what you say to me every time you leave this place. Since I was a kid.”

“Yes, but this time because of our quarrel, it pained me more than any prior occasion. When you called me the other day and expressed how tormented you were because of me, I knew that I had to separate myself from you. I couldn't linger here. We would never be able to have that conversation so soon and time was needed to absorb the damage already done.”

"You just can't…leave like that, Cas," Dean's voice cracked under pressure, "you just can't decide that you're going to go away, man."

"I had to. I've been doing so many wrong things lately, haven’t I?" Castiel turned to display eyes that glistened with tears, "I've been proving to you that despite everything, I can become so cold and hurtful and not the man you became familiar with all these years. This is what…happens to me when I'm evasive of the truth, Dean. This is what I become when my walls suddenly block even _you_ out."

"Why would you feel like you couldn’t tell me whatever the hell was going on?"

"Because you would hate me if I do?"

“I'd never hate you. Not you. Not even after we argue and fight and I’m so sorry,” Dean croaked, turning to consider the other man’s blue eyes resting on the crowd gathered by the fireplace. Why couldn’t he turn off his emotions and simply approach the conversation with confidence and composure? “I’m so sorry that I was so stubborn and I kept going on and on.”

“You have your opinions,” Castiel said softly, his gaze never resting on green orbs. “You’re entitled to those opinions but you must at least learn to understand my opinions too. I don’t scold you without reason and my intention has always been to model your views to respect the values and morals of everyone. An open mind is very effective in an ever-changing world and to remain blinded is far too much a prejudice that I would not like you to arm yourself with.”

“I just…thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Of course, you thought so. But let’s not dwell on old bruises right now. How have you been, my dearest Dean?”

Green eyes glistened from tears and Dean settled back into the chair, wishing that everyone around them would just disappear. He needed to be honest, at least that would be sufficient enough to clear the air between them. “Like I said over and over and you didn’t listen, not so well, Cas. I’m losing my shit.” Dean nodded and offered a strained expression without realizing that he was holding his breath. “And so much more. I really don’t know what the hell is happening to me, man. I think I had my first panic attack tonight before coming in here.”

“What?” Castiel stared back with widened eyes and lips parted. “What happened?”

"I couldn’t breathe, that's what."

"Because of the many people here?"

Dean's chest heaved, and he turned away. "No. Because of _you_."

The stunned expression on the older man's face was carefully studied by green eyes that offered nothing but a sense of being wounded. "The feeling was mutual," Castiel said softly, his voice dipping along with his gaze, onto folded hands that wouldn't remain still. "When I saw you this afternoon, that is."

"You hid it well. Then again, you're always the one who stays steady."

"Not true. I'm always unsteady around you…"

Their gaze deepened after such a confession, and despite Dean's suspicions of the truth, he rode the belief of this being a coincidental occurrence of two best friends simply having a heart to heart.

"Cas, you don't have to hide it," he said softly, admiring the softness around the older man's disposition. "I might be angry at you because of how things kept ending off between us recently, but I can't stay mad for long. You know how I am with you, man. I'm not like this with anyone else."

"I am truly sorry again, about what transpired from our last meeting and those phone calls." When Castiel lifted his attention to the other occupants of the room though, he wasn't really conscious of the scrutiny conducted on his countenance until a light caress with trembling fingers on his jawline caused him to startle.

“Can we go somewhere else and talk?” Dean discovered that his voice was cracking under a burden of emotions and his hand was acting on its own will, like a moth to a flame. “My dad keeps looking at me like he’s ready to marry me off to you any time now.”

Smiling wryly, Castiel rose up from the chair and rested a comforting hand on the other man’s back. “You must ignore their directness. Only you and I know the truth.”

“I don’t, Cas,” Dean said softly when their eyes connected, and he felt like they were both inside the eye of the storm now. Only tragedy to follow would be the ultimate truth revealed and was he ready to embrace that?

Blue orbs offered nothing but mild intrigue but then deciding that they were better off without prying stares, he waited until Castiel led the way out onto Ellen and Bobby’s back porch. In the chill of the night, a light rain covered the moor in a haze and after wandering to the corner that presented the absence of the chair on the other end, Dean sighed. He wasn’t so certain now of being entirely alone with Castiel because the words were buried so deep down inside of his chest, maybe he couldn’t speak at all.

Something was happening between them. It was so alive and new to Dean that he felt uncertain and a little bit terrified that this was one instance where he could not use the information from a book to determine the actuality of the truth.

There were romance books, of course, that could provide enough stories about falling in love and knowing what love felt like. But at that point, Dean wasn’t even sure what he was experiencing because he needed more, words between them and so much more that there was nothing to do but proceed. And so he hopped onto the narrow ledge and waited onto Castiel mirrored the position, by then clearly hanging on the edge of a cliff and frightened that he would fall very soon.

When Dean realized that he could not sit next to the other man without seeking out some kind of connection between them, he understood a little to become certain of one thing; that he was clinging to an energy that emanated from someone else, a warm kind of feeling that was comforting, from another man too. And that feeling when experienced was so desiring and frightening at the same time that Dean’s heart leapt lightly as his mind dizzied.

“Can we talk about what happened?” he tried after a heavy silence rested between them. “Before you walked away when we argued about Charlie? What you…said…to me?”

Castiel’s gaze rested on the mountains, beautiful under the moonlight through the rain. His eyes absorbed the darkness and appeared like the sea at night, deep and mysterious. “I’m not sure that I can, Dean.”

“If I ask the same thing that I did before, you think that you can give me an answer now?” when the older man refrained from providing a reply, Dean’s chest pained from the absence of words. “Cas, we talk about everything. There’s nothing that you can’t tell me, no matter how painful, or terrible or hurtful it is. I’ll always rely on you to know the truth about things.”

“Dean, I can’t… Castiel’s tone dipped and he shook his head, biting his lips gingerly. The sky was sought out by those blue eyes and gradually the tension between them grew thicker again.

“So, you’re just going to leave this hanging, huh?” Dean’s voice hoarsened, gazing at the other man intently. “I don’t deserve the truth because I’m not good enough.”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said, sighing and lowering his gaze to perfectly polished shoes. “I can’t tell you the truth because then I’ll give power to those words. And once I give power to those words, there’s absolutely no way I can take them back. I’d rather keep them inside of me for as long as I can whilst you believe everything else that empowers you to move past this quickly.”

“I don’t think I want to move past it, Cas.”

“Dean, that’s what you’d obviously proclaim because you’re always unsettled from not knowing the truth until it’s revealed to you. This time, I cannot give you that opportunity.”

“Okay,” eyes filling with tears, Dean wondered how he could cry so easily all of a sudden when everything else tragic in his life never caused such a reaction. “Have it your way, Cas. Go ahead and do what you want, and say what you want, because no matter what you do or say, I’ll always choose you. You know that, right?”

When the silence between them stretched on though, Castiel provided no answer and then it was evident to Dean that maybe they weren’t okay. The definition of okay meant that they could converse freely like old times, laughing and equipped with an endless bout of topics until now, the absence of so much happiness was enough to wound Dean. And after the question marks inside of his head were replaced with the dull throb of a migraine, he decided that in order to pry the truth from Castiel, he would have to coax the words just enough to seep out between them.

It was the wall the older man maintained for years which prevented so much openness between them that even he could not cause it to crumble from their support and companionship. The wall that held behind it the pain from a broken marriage, the loss of a daughter, the tragedy of losing his best friend, Dean’s mother and the brutality of a childhood brought on by Naomi Novak.

“How was your trip then?” Dean tried, shoulders hunched and clasped hands dangling between his thighs. “Talk to me, Cas. Humor me, man. Say something because this is making me feel like I’m losing you.”

“You’re not,” Castiel said softly, his voice so low that the rumble of thunder almost drowned it away. “My trip was boring,” He sighed and allowed a few seconds to elapse before continuing. “My brother took me to a strip club.”

Immediately green eyes brightened and studied the older man’s profile. “Yeah? You had a good time?”

“It was a _gay_ strip club and whilst he got swept away by a man onto the dance floor, I was ambushed. Wasn’t an exceptionally thrilling experience, I can assure you that. They were so convinced that I’m a wealthy, gay man that my prospects of finding the most suitable date became the highlight of the night.” When Dean chuckled, Castiel stared at him with nothing but an absence of humor. “In case you forgot, I’m very claustrophobic and I do not like to be cornered by people.”

“I remember.” Dean shook his head and couldn’t refrain from smiling as the air lightened between them a little. “So, you became the most eligible bachelor in the place, huh? Damn, that’s no different than here. I’m pretty sure that everyone in Littleton wants you.”

“Well, not _everyone_ ,” Castiel’s tone dipped lower as he shrugged and after letting out a shaky sigh, those blue eyes flicked to the backyard where a small garden was started already and bloomed despite the weather.

Dean immediately caught the reference and jumped onto the train before the opportunity was lost. “You mean _me._ ”

“Anyway, I left Balthazar and took a cab back to the hotel afterwards,” the older man completely diverted the conversation, “being on the receiving end of excessive pickup lines, lap dances and free drinks was enough to fatigue me. I slept like a baby until ten the next day.”

“A guy danced on you?” green eyes widened although a slice of pain crossed Dean’s chest from the actuality of someone else abusing his friend’s personal space.

Castiel nodded and dusted his lap, “two, in fact. Mind you,” he pointed at the younger man and frowned, “they weren’t modestly clothed and covered in body glitter. Therefore, my entire suit was very sparkly and still is after a heavy washing. Canada is a very cultured place as opposed to this small town. People are quite open about their lives and desires and my brother seems to adore the setting a little too much.”

“Why did he take you to the club though? I mean, it’s not like you’re…you know.” Gay. He couldn’t even say the word comfortably and because Dean realized that the idea of Castiel being inclined to men as well troubled him enough to stifle the word from escaping his lips, he wondered what was happening. Why was he suddenly so changed enough to not even recognize himself?

“Straight guys actually do go to gay clubs apparently because there were four there having drinks and enjoying the attention. I think it rather much soothed their egos to know for certain that they could be appealing to both sexes and still turn down the advances. I also noticed a few women too who found the dancers rather entertaining for a prolonged period.”

“Man, I’ve never been to one but Sammy has,” Dean sighed as the rain lightened but thunder rolled above them. “I need to go out more, you know, like old times when I was in high school. We used to spend a lot of time at that place down in High Street. Think it’s still there. And I used to watch Sammy get into fights over pools and darts and had to fetch him home after he got too high to have a conversation with anyone. Wouldn’t say that it was the good old days because it wasn’t my kind of place but the best part was just hanging out and chilling and being away from school and all the drama.”

He was trying, Dean really was despite the emotions held back inside his chest and raging like a hurricane threatening to peel away every single layer just enough to expose weakness within.

“Yes,” Castiel said softly and up to that point, he avoided eye contact which was usually something that came easily for prolonged periods between them. “I’m afraid that introducing you to a wealth of books perhaps entirely influenced your teenage years. You would prefer to read instead of having a good time with your friends and oftentimes I wonder if you were deprived of such influences, if the Dean Winchester I know now would be very different. Perhaps more cultured than modest and accomplished in terms of literature, and very much like John when he was in high school.”

“Would I still be your kind of guy if I turned out different?” he wouldn’t accept defeat and still craved the truth to escape from the other man’s lips. “Do you love me Cas?”

“Of course, I do. Dean, please don’t do this to us.”

“Do what?” Dean kept trying, fishing and hoping that in the process of squeezing out the truth, he would not break them apart forever. “What does _us_ mean? Because it doesn’t feel like we’re the same anymore. Everything between us feels different.”

“It doesn’t, Dean,” Castiel said softly, squeezing the tips of his fingers one by one and slumping his shoulders as if fatigued from the conversation. “I feel the same way.”

“Well, I don’t, okay? And maybe you could be fine with all of this because you’ve been living with it for God knows how long. But I can’t let it go until you talk to me. I want to know what’s going on and I’m not going to stop until—”

Lightly resting his fingers onto the younger man’s right cheek and cutting his flow of words, Castiel turned his eyes onto green ones. “Dean,” he said softly when he was considered with so much worry and sadness, “I cannot make speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

Finally, there was progress, but Dean didn’t feel like he could survive what was to come out between them. He wanted to pause the moment just long enough to gather enough composure, to at least take a few full breaths and erase the dizzying feeling emanating from the depth of their conversation. But nothing could be stopped and because he wasn’t even sure what was going to unfold between them, all he could do was sit there stiffly and search those beautiful pools of blue for the comfort and love that he always needed.

“I’m not remarkable,” Castiel’s voice suddenly sounded smaller and almost inaudible under the roll of thunder. “You know what I am. You hear nothing but the truth from me. I have scolded you, and you have borne it as no other person in my life. But you understand me. And I hope that you understand my feelings are genuine and I mean you no harm.”

“Of course…you don’t,” Dean said softly because…how could someone who watched him grow up and tended to his fears and his woes ever wish to hurt him? “Cas, I don't think that—"

“I am _completely_ in love with you.”

Dean stopped breathing and stared back with widened eyes, because nothing could have prepared him for the confession. This time, they weren’t rushing out words and facing each other with anger. This time Castiel was looking at him like he was awaiting a glass ball to drop down and shatter between them.

No matter how their gaze prolonged, he could only ponder on one necessary thing though; the tears were too torturous to witness. He wished to wipe them away but then Dean understood that if he attempted to, then perhaps the gesture would become too bold and incomprehensible even to him.

“Can you say something to me?” Castiel’s voice cracked, his gaze pleading as his fingers that once brushed Dean’s cheek fell to his lap again. “I know that you do not share the same feelings. Am I to lose you completely now because of the truth? I've screwed this up, haven't I? Will you abandon me as your best friend?”

“Never,” Dean took the other man’s hands between his and rubbed them slowly as if trying to reassure those soft fingers that they were loved and treasured and always worthy of entwining between his own ones, “I’ll never leave you in this lifetime or any other. And I’ll keep on being your best friend for as long as it takes. I’m just curious though,” he frowned at Castiel, “how long have you felt like this? Please don’t tell me that it’s been more than two years.”

The older man sighed, gazed at their hands laced together and the wind lifted the soft tendrils of his brown hair. “Your twentieth birthday party…”

“Cas! No way.” Dean stared, completely shocked, and immediately he wondered after Ellen’s scolding many weeks ago when he referred to the very same incident and she advised that he refrain from teasing the older man.

Did Ellen know?

Castiel continued, “I know that it was wrong of me to…” and Dean’s green eyes widened, the grip tightening on the older man's hands, “but I couldn’t help it. Love just…happens and it’s been…almost five years since. Now you are twenty five and equally deserving of the truth so there it is.”

Dean was still curious. “Are you sure though? Do you think that this is just maybe you loving me as a friend instead of…Maybe you’re not…” he shrugged, “into me like _that_?”

Blue eyes lowered and Castiel shook his head as he swallowed. “No, Dean. After so much time, I’m absolutely certain that I’m attracted to you as more than just a man admiring another as a friend. Can you spare me from elaborating?” he offered Dean a conflicted look that was entirely adorable to the younger man, “I wish not to make you uncomfortable and I’d save myself the embarrassment.”

Did Castiel really envision them intimately?

Most certainly he did, because to be in love with someone required some amount of soothing certain desires that could very well be of a sexual nature. Kissing…for instance…did his mind wander every single chance he got…where the two of them kissed like lovers and possibly became more intimate? All these thoughts Dean entertained until a dull ache formed inside his gut and despite his inability to completely understand the intensity of what love must lead to between two men, he discovered that the idea really didn't unnerve him. In fact, it soothed him to become aware of no form of discomfort forming which would have posed a severe problem from the beginning.

Sighing, Dean smiled warmly and nodded, then he lightly brushed cupped fingers across Castiel’s right cheek. “Alright, huggy bear, definitely don’t want to make you feel like that. Thank you so much for telling me the truth. Now, _at least_ , I can sleep tonight knowing that we aren’t fighting with each other and there aren’t any question marks between us. But five years is a long time, Cas. Five years is like almost half a decade, you know.”

Castiel tilted his head and smiled quite fondly, his cheeks flushed with color. “Well, _thank_ you for reminding me that it is! I couldn’t quite find the word to sum it all up.”

“Idiot,” Dean lightly chucked the older man’s right thigh away and laughed but deep down inside he was far from okay because just when he thought that the conversation would chase away the ripple of new feelings inside of his chest, all of it still remained.

He wished for a confession and it was exactly what he received. Now, he was certain that Castiel was in love with him, absolutely ravished by his feelings that seemed to leak through the painful tears and the diverted gaze. All of these gestures signified how deep that love burrowed itself into the older man's heart and resided there, for such a long time. And as the silence stretched on, Dean discovered that he was clinging to the belief of keeping them together than tearing them apart, regardless of what the truth was.

“So, what now, Cas?”

“Hmm?” blue eyes were somehow lost in the view of the darkened peaks of the mountains through the trees in Ellen’s backyard.

“Us…I mean, we’re not exactly _just friends_ anymore, right?”

Castiel turned and frowned, his forehead creased. “What do you mean? Of course, we are, Dean. We can’t be anything else, can we?”

We could…

The path his mind took simply stunned Dean until he was fighting to brush away the new feelings of expectation rather than evasion.

“I don’t know what could happen, but all I know right now is that bottom of the ninth, and last guy left on the bench, I’d rather have you.” He couldn’t see that Castiel was gazing at him so intently after uttering such words, and perhaps if he did then the weight of his statement would be felt too.

"I'd rather have you too, Dean."

“We should probably head inside before people think we’re making out.”

“We probably _should_ ,” Castiel said softly, sliding off from the ledge and followed by the other man who dusted his khaki pants. “And try not to look too creased, or else you will give substance to their suspicions. Do my clothes look wrinkled to you?”

After carefully assessing the older man, Dean stood back and smiled. “Nah, you look polished as always. And sexy. I missed you, man.” Taking Castiel’s right shoulder, green eyes softened. “Don’t you _ever_ change, okay?”

He couldn’t stop gazing though, and had to actually tear his attention away because the pull between them was too much to digest. What was it? The sudden existence of a magnetic force which grew stronger as their words deepened. It was new, and frightening and glorious and everything that consisted of an epiphany. And Dean wondered whether they would break or were on the mend, but he couldn't determine such a thing so soon.

They both made an attempt to return to their family inside until he lightly tugged his friend back, “Wait, Cas. Just a moment.”

“Hmm?” the other man faced him and offered nothing but the softest smile and there was something else settling on his face.

Dean latched onto the slight strain because he understood Castiel so well, and without holding back, he stepped forward and took him into his arms.

The warm embrace was deserving because he really needed to ease the tension between them, he wrapped his hands around his friend's waist and tugged him in nearer than any of their other normal hugs. A sense of protectiveness washed over him, knowing well enough that this wasn't familiar but also new. This was phenomenal to be so near to another man and experience the jittery feeling of dipping his toes into soft sand. And in that moment, the pieces were drawing closer together but never quite fitting entirely.

"You really think that I'm sexy?" Castiel's voice hummed next to the shell of Dean's right ear.

Just when he believed that nothing further could happen between them, his heart settled into a rhythm that was slow and steady as he melted like butter because Castiel’s arms felt like home. "It's nothing new."

The honesty in their embrace was so perfect that he couldn’t stop himself from drowning in the other man’s warmth. It was so reminiscent of the night when the rains came down and they rode in the taxi. And when Castiel nuzzled his face into the crook of his shoulder, something finally changed inside of Dean, enough to make him realize the beginning of the truth.

Never before was he on the receiving end of another man’s stubble lightly caressing his neck, completely exciting his pores and immediately captivating him in a sense of euphoria. It was like nothing Dean ever experienced before, especially when Castiel’s soft, warm lips pressed a kiss under his jawline. Daring, it was, but so toe-curling that his knees weakened, the entire world muted, and there was no other option but to stay where he was and there he remained whilst the other man tasted his skin. Just like Dean had done in the ride back home that night, when he was too far gone and covered in a high fever, this time the favor was returned in the most glorious way ever.

He was afraid to utter a single word, believing that if he did, the illusion would disappear and leave him with an empty space inside his arms. But then Castiel’s palm travelled upwards on his back until both hands were guiding fingers to drive pathways through his hair. Lost in the moment completely, the two of them fitted together so perfectly that Dean wasn’t even aware of how much he was losing himself. And then just like that, although he was guiltily enjoying every single second, Castiel slowly pulled away, awakening him from a beautiful slumber that he finally realized was all too real.

“I’m sorry,” the older man said, shaking his head and appearing ashamed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Dean stared back because he wasn’t sure what was happening but understood that he really enjoyed every second of it, even if the desire to resist the feelings were barely there. “Don’t apologize. It’s me, Cas. Besides, I’m the one who hugged you first.”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed and he appeared completely embarrassed. “I got carried away. I warned you, Dean, about words having power the moment they’re spoken and look what has happened. Now I’m going to run away because I’ve clearly overstepped my boundaries.”

“Did you bite me?” Dean prodded his neck with the tips of his fingers and felt how tender the spot was, enough to send little slivers of electricity shooting through his body. “No really, did you actually bite me like a freaking vampire, Cas?”

"Did I?" turning around on the spot and appearing completely mortified, the older man stared back in shock. "Oh no, I'm embarrassing myself. I'm—"

"Lighten up, will you? I'm not going to turn tonight at least. Give it twenty-four hours tops," Dean sent a flashing smile although his heart was thumping wildly and his fingers ached to touch. "And then we will both rob the blood bank, unless you want me to suck on your arm."

“Dean, this isn’t funny!” Obviously terrified from the reaction, the older man’s eyes widened as he slowly stepped away. “I’m going to return inside and pretend that this never happened.”

“It happened, Cas,” Dean suddenly chuckled, palm still pressed to his neck and still swimming in an abundance of warmth. “I think you’ve just marked your territory—”

"I did no such thing!"

"You _so_ did! My damn skin's all tingly now. And I'm slowly beginning to get thirsty but not for punch."

"You know what?" Castiel planted his hands on his hips and seemed completely defeated, "tease me all you want. I'm leaving."

"Right," prodding his neck still and pouting, "go ahead and leave with my blood on your fangs. In some cultures, you could be hanged."

"And if ten paces from the gallows, you would come to my rescue because _you_ cannot live without me. Despite your lamentations otherwise…" Castiel studied Dean's surprised countenance and smiled, "you would be driven insane without me as you were more than three days now. Admit it."

"I surrender," holding up his hands, the younger man sighed and offered a willing smile. He began to close the distance between then with tentative steps. "How about another hug, huh?"

"Absolutely not." And carefully slipping away from extended arms, Castiel ducked through the backdoor and into the house.

Afterwards though, when Dean lingered by the door as the rains came down again, he couldn’t help but dwell on the truth coming to light. The evening began with heavy tension and the feeling of butterflies, then after he couldn’t refrain from latching onto the other man’s warmth, Dean sought out ways to touch him; nudging their thighs and entwining their fingers. Most of all though, it was the way Castiel kissed him that concluded his suspicions, that added a few hints to the earlier confused reactions.

Dean realized that he really and truly was experiencing some kind of feelings for the other man that were not of a friendly nature at all. And after slowly allowing himself to be washed over by the relief soothing the doubts and the anger and pain, he actually satisfied his aching heart by smiling because if there was one thing he detested, it was any kind of hurt between himself and Castiel.

And if he was still longing for another kiss…

Then…

"I'm falling in love," he whispered to no one particular, staring into the night and reliving the feel of soft lips upon his neck. "Jesus Christ, I'm falling in love with my best friend."


	9. Chapter 9

**Excerpt:**

_“Man, this is better than those soaps I watch on TV.” Ellen laughed, patting Dean on his cheek playfully. “How do you feel about him though? Like really feel about him.”_

_Dean shook his head and stared at the mountains in the distance that seemed so far away but were so close. “I want to kiss him.”_

_“Then…” Ellen tipped her head and stared back in amazement, “kiss him. What you waiting for? Snow to show up and put a chill on things? None of us ain’t getting younger. He sure ain’t.”_

* * *

Charlie’s placement at Saint Andrew’s Elementary wasn’t one that she would ever complain about, mainly because there was a mile of distance between there and the orphanage and the ride to and fro on her Harley in the mornings proved to be very elating.

Now after Dean learned that she was promoted from an aide to a teacher for an entire class of ten-year olds, the excitement of witnessing his friend performing her job was a little too tempting to miss; the flaming red-head teaching little kids about Science and Geography, and sitting in front of the classroom, attempting to appear rather serious. And because he really sought out a distraction from the ticklish feelings inside of his chest, the Impala sped out of the yard with one destination in mind.

It wasn’t long before Dean’s heart squeezed from the fond memories of two days ago though, a dinner thoroughly enjoyed and abundant in life-changing events for him such as finally wondering if he was indeed falling for his best friend.

Castiel, the older man who was rather humorous and sophisticated, handsome and adorable, and always capable of correcting Dean’s actions; there he was, driving through town and still replaying those words over and over inside of his mind.

_If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more._

_My feelings are genuine._

_I am completely in love with you._

“Me,” Dean said to himself softly in the car after stalling by a red light. “Cas. Loves _me._ I’m twenty years younger, introverted, dull if not for my damn books and studying arts and culture. Not so…good looking, wait, am I?” he collected the rearview mirror and tugged it to face him, then studying those wide green eyes, he sighed. “Too much freckles. Damn hair that has no personality and compared to _him_ …”

The light turned green, his cellphone chirped, and after parking in front of the school and admiring the simple yellow brick building with wide windows, Dean smiled. He was somewhat happier since the two of them mended the broken connection between them and also relieved that Castiel was able to express his feelings. But the most unforgettable moment was the kiss, necking as Sam oftentimes loved to lament on receiving an abundance of. And because Dean was finally on the receiving end of such an intimate gesture from Castiel, he couldn’t confess that he detested it, especially delivered by another man.

Unlocking his phone after exiting the Impala, he discovered that the very person swirling around in his thoughts sent him a message.

**I should use this often to torment you. Where have you gone? I’m here at your house and there is no Dean. I would like you to explain to me how I might pass the time appearing remotely interested in your father’s discussion about chisels and screwdrivers.**

Dean entertained a good bout of laughter, pinched the corners of his eyes and blinked up at the darkened sky still threatening rain or snow, no one really knew which anymore.

**You shoulda told me you’d be over this morning. Woulda brought you along to see Charlie. I’m outside her school now. Hang in there huggy bear.**

Just as he was entering the school and the hushed tones of children drifted through the doors, his phone chirped again and checking the message, Dean bit in a smile that warmed his entire face.

**Mentally there with you but physically stuck here as the topic changes to Dolly Parton’s RACK. I have to miss dinner because my brother and I are entertaining a friend. But I will see you at the picnic tomorrow, darling.**

The last word remained imprinted in Dean’s mind as he passed one door after the other, checking for a flow of red hair. And throughout his journey, he couldn’t shake the warm feeling that weakened his knees and dizzied his mind from such a fond name that Castiel never used before.

_Darling…_

What was happening to them all of a sudden? He couldn’t stop blushing and by the time Dean stumbled upon Charlie’s classroom, he was entirely drenched in the guilty feeling of learning to accept rather than suffer from self-denial. The latter brought on so much pain after believing that there was no one who could ever love him. But the former felt like summer in winter and it was everything that Dean needed after over five years of matchmaking and never being on the receiving end of the pangs of love.

“Dean! You should have said you’re coming,” Charlie playfully punched him when they entered the classroom again. “Young ones, I’d like you to meet my brother, the awesome Dean Winchester.”

Immediately all twenty faces brightened, “good morning, Mister Winchester.”

“Not so bad,” he whispered in her ear and smiled warmly. “Hi, good morning. You can call me Dean though. Mister Winchester makes me feel so old…” he shrugged. “Don’t use it unless I ask you to.”

“How old are you?” asked a cute little blonde girl in the third row with pigtails. “Do you like chocolate?”

“Would you believe that I’m just sixteen?” Dean told her, Charlie admiring his glowing countenance, “and who doesn’t like chocolate?”

“No way! Sixteen? Are you left-handed? Can you count to one hundred million billion? Do you read Nancy Drew?”

“I read Nancy Drew,” Dean said, obviously selecting the question on books. “And Hardy Boys and Dana Girls and I’ve recently started on Harry Potter.”

The oohs and ahhs that emanated from the sea of faces was enough to glorify Charlie’s admiration for her friend who stood there, quite a natural already although he wasn’t even a teacher as yet. He was so comfortable in front of a classroom, eager to divulge information to curious little minds and for an entire hour, the class thoroughly enjoyed his discussion on The Invisible Man by H.G Wells.

By the time he completed the short demonstration, addressing an invisible character by his side that he told them only he could see and unearthing giggles and smiles, the kids were eager to read the story. And Charlie was a little too thrilled to find them enthusiast about literature that she wondered if he could perhaps entertain guest appearances after she introduced books they were to study and analyze.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind at all, if they’d allow it.”

She frowned, going through a stack of papers headed SPELLING and marking along the way in a bright red pen. “Why wouldn’t they though?”

Dean frowned, tugged out a sheet from the pile and studied the list of words. “Remember everyone’s opinion about a book is biased. I mean, sure, I could explain the plot but when they start asking questions, then it’s up to you. An excerpt from The Hobbit?” he smiled at her. “Really, Charlie? What’s next? Lord of the Rings?”

“As a matter-of-fact, hells yeah,” she tilted her head and beamed at him. “Plus, it’s right up their alleyway. I’m allowed to recommend one other book apart from the syllabus every term. So, naturally this month, it’s The Hobbit.”

“Why that one though? You hooked on the plot or is it more like your favorite because of Bilbo, the character?”

“Well,” she shifted on her chair and slowly ticked the correct spellings of words on one of the kid’s paper, “my mom used to read it to me when I was a kid, like at first I hated it but then I started to like it a lot.”

“I’m so sorry,” he pried easily, after remembering Castiel’s mindful words that night that seemed like many years ago before he was suddenly swept off his feet and drowning in quick sand. “She sounds like a really cool woman who I could have conversations with about books.”

“I wasn’t really honest with…you,” Charlie eyed the children busy working on a page from their grammar workbook. “When I said that both my parents are…dead. And before you get mad,” she locked eyes with him and her gaze softened, “I don’t know what to think anymore, I mean…about this whole… _thing_. But well, you see,” lowering her stare onto the pile of papers, she sighed, “my mom’s been on life support at Saint Anne’s hospital since the accident and the reason why she’s still there after all these years is because her benefactor, the one who’s her next of kin after me, he doesn’t want to end it…” her voice dipped, “he used to give her funds to study and stuff, and he keeps her there because I keep going day after day and I read to her and talk to her and maybe he doesn’t want to do it as yet because of me. But I don’t even know when is the right time.”

Dean softly patted her back, the two of them seated next to one another and he pried the pen out of her hand so that she could slowly catch her breath after being deeply affected. “Thanks for telling me. I know it must be really hard for you to go there.”

“It _is_ but we’re so close, I wanted to tell you ages ago. I just didn’t know how to because there’s more,” Charlie eyed him with a bit of embarrassment on her face. “The famous benefactor is Balthazar, which means Cas is mom’s cousin,” when Dean stared at her in awe, she sighed. “I swear, I only found out the evening of the Christmas dinner at Ellen’s house when I saw him and I remembered his face because we met a couple times in the hospital and he would come and talk to me. He’s the sweetest guy. Honestly, the guy’s been taking care of mom’s bills for all these years and he even offered to give me money whenever I need which I don’t ask for anyway.”

The conversation continued after three in a small café on Main Street over cups of cocoa and slices of chocolate cake and although Dean was by then aware of the close relations, he still couldn’t believe what a small town Littleton turned out to be.

“Do you think Cas knows?” he asked her after she dug around in her satchel and fished out her pink cellphone.

But Dean was already aware of the answer because wasn’t Castiel the one who informed him that his friend’s mother was still alive? He was also so bruised and angered when a match was suggested between the two, Dean felt so horrible after now knowing about the relation he shared with Charlie.

“I never asked him directly, but I think he does.” She smiled at her phone, “I guess he doesn’t want to bring it up because it’s not something that’s easy to talk about. Okay, so guess what?” She showed him a selfie with Dorothy and herself squished together in a photo booth. “Don’t freak out, okay? I know that you warned me to not go on a date with her but we’re just friends and we kind of bump into each other when the decorating committee meets. But I think I’m going to do this, Dean. You have to give me one cheat card at least because I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I realize that it’s what I want to do. Like, I want to follow my heart on this one and—”

“Charlie,” Dean said softly, stirring his cocoa slowly, eyes lowered and still feeling embarrassed, “look, man. I’m…” he shook his head and sighed, “…the last person who should give you any advice on dating and who’s perfect because I don’t even have any damn good experiences. And I’m so sorry about the things I said. If you think that Dorothy’s good enough for you, then by all means you go ahead and get her. It’s not for me to say anything against it because I’m not entitled to.”

For a long time, Charlie merely studied his face intently but equipped with a smile. Then reaching across the table, she collected Dean’s right hand and squeezed it. “Something about you is definitely not the same, dude. You’ve changed, or to put it in a better way, you’re changing. Kind of like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.”

“Really?” he stared at his friend and internally debated on whether to reveal the reason why because he really felt compelled to. But there he was, blooming most obviously and he wished not to involve anyone else in the transformation but experience it independently.

Charlie smiled, “has to be Cas. You two are friends again! I knew that you’d patch things up! I just knew it. Dean, you look so happy. You’re glowing and I like it so much.”

Reflexively, he felt the side of his neck and didn’t realize the obvious gesture until the dull sensation still latched onto the memory. And when Dean’s face flushed, the heat rising around him, Charlie instantly pinpointed the reaction and she was too thrilled, bursting inside but hesitant to pry.

“Dude! Did you get laid? Did Cas…”

“No,” he immediately rushed out, staring at her like a deer-in-the-headlights. “Dude, no. Come on.”

“Then why the hell are you touching your neck?” Charlie gasped, and sat back in her seat. “Dean, if it’s not him then, did someone else give you a hickey? Oh my god.” Leaning over the table, she stared but her friend merely shrugged and enough guilt dusted his cheeks. “Keep it a secret from me, Dean Winchester! I can’t wait to solve this mystery although I hope it’s not Jo.”

“Nah, it’s no one,” Dean returned to his cocoa and sipped, eyes glued everywhere else except on the girl sitting across the table. “Anyway, so Dorothy, huh? You think that you’re going to do that second date then?”

Green eyes narrowed at him and Charlie’s face stretched into a wide smile. “I’m not telling you a word about my love life if you wouldn’t tell me about yours.”

“I don’t have a love life. Believe me, I don’t. And it’s fine, we don’t have to talk about love, right? Let’s talk about something else like how I’m a shitty friend for trying to keep you away from Dorothy,” Dean sighed and was willing to admit the truth. “My reasons were so prejudiced and not okay, I mean, I can’t imagine I didn’t want you to end up with her because she’s a farmer. I just wanted you wait for someone better, like some rich, respectable dude who would give you everything nice and shiny.”

Charlie’s smile wasn’t too soft but she nodded and picked at her chocolate cake. “Yup, I don’t care about money, Dean. I’m too cool to be hung up on some dude who has a ton of money but can’t give me lots of hugs and understand everything else. Like Cas for instance, I think he’s an angel, like a freaking angel in disguise.”

“You know, it’s funny that you’d think that,” Dean laughed, licking icing from his thumb, “I used to think the same thing about him when I was a kid, especially when my mom kept telling me and Sammy that angels were watching over us. I mean, he was right there with the bluest eyes that always look so damn…ethereal.”

The two of them drifted into a light conversation about television shows after ordering a light dinner and then when Dean noticed that it was already minutes to five, he decided to head home. By then, Charlie was clearly fatigued from a long day and as they walked out to their rides, the town was filled with the hustle and bustle of people picking up their Christmas shopping. Families arm in arm, kids darting from window to window, gleeful and energetic and everyone at that point in the season were bundled up in coats because the nights were too cold but the days still warm.

“The night when Ellen and I got up to go into the kitchen,” Charlie said after collecting her helmet, “we were talking about you and Cas like… _really_ talking about you two.”

“Yeah?” Dean pretended to seem entirely cool about the confession but was severely affected inside and mildly depressed from the thought of going home to no Castiel at the dinner table.

“Well apart from the obvious which is us totally wanting the two of you to end up together, Ellen thinks that Cas is head over heels in love but you aren’t. And I think that you are but you’re in stupid denial—”

“Hey, I’m not stupid,” Dean playfully punched her, “I’m adorable, remember?”

Charlie sighed, and fitted on her black helmet, “yeah, I bet he thinks that too. Like you should see how he looks at you when you’re not looking at him. That night when you came out and found us waiting on you to head over to Ellen’s house? He was telling me that he hated his trip to Canada. So, when I asked him why, he said that he’d rather be here with you. I mean, the guy is so in love with you, Dean,” she dramatically drooped her posture, and stared at him in awe, “you’re all he talks about when I hang out with him after Bible Club. Dean likes this, Dean likes that. Or Dean would say this or Dean would not want me to do that.”

She felt a tinge of disappointment deep downside that may never be revealed to her friend, in terms of her admiration for Castiel. Love had no bounds to her, especially when one was so certain of an accomplished man's worth as opposed to the many follies of others. But experience triumphed whims of attraction and the two men's years of friendship cemented their bond far more than she would ever claim.

If Charlie was honest with herself in that moment, she believed that her worth to men like Crowley and Castiel may never be ideal. She was simple, very young and very poor and she was contented of her insignificance to even cast an agitated fever to defending otherwise. And because she understood her worth may take years to build up so that she may even be considered as suitable to a gentleman, no one else would do except for the young woman who embraced her despite everything else. Despite her flaws, her absence of wealth and very common features, she was loved and pursued and wanted nothing more than to accept those advances.

Dean ruffled Charlie’s hair pooled around her shoulders as she tried to catch her breath. “He means a lot to me,” he chose his words carefully, “Had a feeling you and Ellen were up to something. Would have never guessed that it’s matchmaking. Huh.”

“Well, you never know,” she hopped onto the Harley, “maybe we could be as good as you are with getting people together. Just wait and see.”

"By the way," he frowned and appeared unsettled a little whilst considering the pavement beneath his boots, "I've been meaning to mention this to you for a while now. But I didn't think that it was _that_ big a deal."

Charlie frowned, tilting her head to consider his worried countenance. "What's up?"

"It's Crowley," he sighed and gingerly bit his lips before deciding that admitting the truth would relieve him in more ways than one. "More than once now, I've been getting this weird vibe from him. Like…he's…I don't know," Dean shrugged, "maybe trying to hit on me? It's weird, really. Weirder than I want to admit but it's there and it's subtle. But it's like he's trying to get to me and I don't know why."

"Why the hell _not_ , though?" Charlie stared at him as if he was completely oblivious to the truth. "I mean, all things considering, I'd hate to break it to you, but you're possibly _the_ best looking dude around here besides Cas. And that's going to push you in the spotlight for a lot of people to start drooling, if they're not already. Dean, you're anything but the most boring wallpaper. You stand out like a sore thumb wherever you go and if Crowley is into dudes, which is strange if he is," she wrinkled her nose from the actuality of a Deacon being so inclined, "then you're obviously going to be first on his list to flirt with. Just don't tell Cas though…."

Dean glanced away, frowned and then returned his stare. "Why?"

"Because, he's going to make a voodoo doll of Crowley and break his arms and legs, stick needles in his eyes and possibly castrate him. That's why. Now bye, bitch."

After Charlie rode off, there he stood quite dissatisfied with her responses until the truth dawned upon him that maybe he was becoming the center of attraction. Whilst Dean wished for the sole attention of one man in particular, he was also captivating another possibly and the very thought of it sickened him. He didn't want to be Crowley's prized distraction, but he highly favored someone else's admiration a little too much that it deepened his belief in falling quickly in love.

If he wished to expound on what was happening to him, then perhaps the perfect description would arise from quite a too imaginative scenario.

All his life, Dean realized that his mind constantly kept drifting to the times when he used to wander to the lake through the trees as a teenager and maybe younger than that on his way home from Sunday school. He would delve into the depths of the forest and perch on a particular log and those green eyes would study the smooth surface of the lake that rippled when winds caressed it or a bird dipped its beak to catch fishes. But he never touched the water because of fear of damaging something so beautiful and serene.

He, for a long time sat there on that log and simply admired the scenery and dwelled on the habitat of animals hiding between the leaves. He kept dreading that the temperature would be too cold like ice, and the bed too muddy because of the darkened surface. But then Castiel was the one who changed all of that in the most frightening but beautiful way possible.

After church on a bright sunny day in June, his best friend accompanied him out there simply because he was too bored with the confinements of the house. The older man’s idea of a good time ended up unfolding into breaking the surface of the water in long strides, still dressed in his shirt and pants. And Dean remembered staring in shock at the age of ten after this wonderful amazing man whom he cared about braved everything to rush into a lake that was so cold and yet perfect.

He was fearful, completely terrified when Castiel called out and although he was shaking from his lack expertise in terms of swimming, his trust for the older man drew him nearer. Then when he dipped his toes into the water, Dean remembered the confusion from the immediate warmth felt after touching what he thought would be icy. The water was soothing enough to draw him, a wide-eyed little boy who was eager to prove to his friend that he was brave enough to do whatever Castiel asked him to do because he trusted him. And because he trusted him so much, Dean wandered further until he reached him and those comforting arms taught him how to swim.

Sitting in the Impala and reflecting on those fond memories brought tears to Dean’s eyes because his situation was so similar now like it was back then. Castiel was in the lake, warm and soothing and after Dean dipped his toes into that sensation, he was slowly submerging himself because why? For one thing quite obvious to himself, he wished not to leave Castiel out there on his own. That’s something that pained him in too many ways to dwell on that instead he wanted to reach him. Dean wanted to sink his toes in between the smooth rocks and wade his way to the older man because only then could he find the comfort and happiness that he needed.

\-------------------

The very next day which was a glorious Saturday, the sun rose high in the sky by midday and provided enough warmth for the annual family picnic.

It was a tradition initiated many years ago by six friends who at the time lacked mobile phones, the internet and chose to savor the outdoors and abundant conversations. Now after marriages and bonds cemented from trust, love and hardships, Ellen, Donna, Jody, Castiel and John were once again united with the absence of one; Mary. And although her presence was missed severely, the joy from knowing that she would be smiling down at them maintaining the picnics was too glorious to dampen their spirits.

In addition to the small party was Bobby, Dean and a young woman who from the moment the latter cast his eyes upon her, determined that he didn’t favor the likes of such a person for one obvious reason; she came along as Castiel’s companion and after tucking her arm into his, the two of them stayed close to each other for the remainder of the afternoon.

Now such an unfortunate situation dampened Dean’s spirits immensely after the pair arrived because he was guiltily anticipating the companionship of the man he was developing an attraction to since the day prior. A sleepless night didn’t do any favors to his frustrated mood. And after an hour passed with healthy conversations and reminiscing on the good old days, Dean remained by Ellen’s side and resorted to reading the Chamber of Secrets signed _this book belongs to the basilisk that is owned by Charlie Bradbury_.

Who was this young woman that Castiel introduced as Hanna from Texas and why was her presence so important and enough to intrude on quite an intimate picnic between family?

Dean voiced his question to Ellen and received a warm hug that softened from her vanilla scent. "A childhood friend. Used to be from these parts. You know," she leaned in closer and smiled a little, "I heard that the two of them used to be far more than friends when they were younger. Gave him quite a roll around in the grass, legs tangling and all. If you ask me, I wouldn't be surprised if _he_ was far too smitten still."

Staring and boring holes into the older man's character, Dean rolled his eyes and literally felt an earthquake opening up a large crack inside of his chest.

"Thought you were on my side on this? Being supportive and all. Plotting with Charlie to get us together…"

Ellen snorted and collected a ginger cookie from the plate resting on the blanket. She chewed with a glint in her eyes and studied his stiffened demeanor. "Ain't going to go anywhere if there's no mutual interest. And besides, he's got to move along in life, don't he? The girl's plenty pretty, kind and sweet. They match perfectly."

Dean scowled, flipping the pages of his book too fast and completely distracted. "What the hell does she have that he wants anyway? She looks like a poster girl from some Good Housekeeping magazine."

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” he protested in a heavy whisper whilst Castiel strategically stretched out on the grass directly opposite the younger man, and those green eyes carefully scrutinized the woman settled by his side. “I’m just wondering who the hell she is and why she’s here.”

“Dean…” Ellen warned, carefully casting a glance in front of them and quite relieved that their words weren’t caught. "Careful now, because you ain't want another fight between you two."

Straw hat with an awful yellow ribbon wrapped around it, flat brown shoes, a generous bosom and a light, flirty disposition that seemed to captivate Castiel around every turn of their conversation. And maybe it was a little too much to assume that they were closer than friends, but the general sense of being dipped in romance before would cause many people to relive those fond memories. And once those feelings were tasted again, then Castiel would obviously savor his past feelings and wish to entertain them again.

“Look at her. She’s obviously pining over him and it’s annoying.”

“Why is it annoying?” the older woman took his jaw and connected their eyes. “Look at me, you can’t just keep him like a soft teddy bear that only you can cuddle and talk to all your life. You got to stop being like this, Dean.”

“How?” he leant back on his elbows and glared up at her because Ellen’s statements always reflected how knowledgeable she was about his character.

“It’s damn unfair to judge anybody’s behavior without knowing what the whole picture is. And you know what,” she suddenly scowled and turned to face him directly, “maybe I’m just damn tired of the back and forth between you two. If you want something in this life, you got to go and get it, Dean. Nothing comes without you asking or working for it. Your daddy spoiled you too rotten to get what you want easily without fighting for it. You can’t realize a good thing worth fighting for even if it’s right in front your face. And it’s a damn shame really.” All of this was delivered in a hushed tone and after settling onto the blanket again, Ellen sighed then chewed on cookie.

“Maybe I do realize it,” Dean said softly, staring at his book that blocked the view of the adorable couple laughing and conversing. “But maybe he deserves better than me.”

Immediately, Ellen caught the slip of tongue and stared at him in mild fascination, then deciphering what the dull blush on his face arose from, she scoffed. “Well, I’ll be damned. You mean to tell me that you finally catch your senses? You smitten and kept it a damn secret all this time?”

“Keep your voice down, okay? Dammit, Ellen, I’m working with what I can manage with.”

"Then work harder, Dean."

"In case you didn't notice, I'm a little inexperienced with falling for a damn guy. Dammit. Never been here. Never done this. And the worst part is, I'm admitting I'm jealous. I'm so damn jealous."

But she sighed, smiled and glanced over at Castiel’s prodding gaze resting on Dean’s face obscured by the novel. The look was a little too intense to be selfishly admired. “Jealous means you're in love with him, you know that right?"

Sighing again and shifting uncomfortably on his back, Dean gripped the book and tried to swallow his feelings but they were too obvious. There was no doubt inside his mind that the inseparable pair nesting on the opposite side of the grass was a little too intimate to be just friends.

"Dean, if you look at him right now, all your jealousy will burn away.”

“Huh?” he lowered his book and immediately caught his best friend admiring him with the most disarming look he was ever privy to. And the depth of the connection that developed between them wasn’t very suggestive of a friendship anymore. The bond between their eyes contained a level of intimacy that no one ever provided him with thus far.

Ellen, quite conscious of the two men drowning in the moment was entirely thrilled by the discovery, but she wasn’t the only one who noticed the pair. John, entertained by Bobby’s light conversation latched his scrutiny on Dean’s public display of immense interest in the older man and he chuckled to himself. And so did Jody who leant forward and smiled at Ellen, clearly impressed by the turn of events.

“You still hate her?” she asked Dean after a full minute passed by entertaining green eyes searching blue ones.

He returned to his book and completely tried to shield the blush quite evidently felt from the warmth on his face. “Yup. No one steals my best friend away from me. And I mean _no one_.”

“Best friend, huh?” Ellen snorted. “Stop whining like a girl and get a grip of yourself. I can guarantee you that that ain’t the way best friends look at each other. You two were making out through your eyes and it was too cute. Dean, put down the damn book and go over there.”

“Not until he gets rid of Miss Texas. You know, I’m just going to pretend that none of you are here and it’s just me and my book. Goodbye world,” and after bundling up his jacket into a pillow, Dean leant back and resumed reading.

For most of the time, conversations drifted to him that were very delightful, considering that he didn’t need to participate in any discussions. Being an outsider proved to be quite satisfying, especially when he found great contentment in mature views instead of very ignorant ones expressed by his age group. Charlie was an exception, of course, but maybe he couldn’t quite tolerate the likes of young people because most of them were too opinionated and unwilling to learn.

Such as himself, if he really embraced the actuality of his intrusion into Charlie’s love life. He was far too stubborn to accept his prejudiced views and spent an abundance of time glorifying himself that he was doing the right thing. But now, after somehow settling into a mindset that was evidently changing him into a very humble and steadied individual, Dean couldn’t be more ashamed of his past actions. In fact, he wondered if love was indeed the cure to foolishness and the fuel that enabled his maturity to blossom.

“Let’s play a game,” Jody, the always jovial one announced, and Dean groaned after Ellen snatched the book away and folded it under her lap. “Why don't we each tell the youngest and quietest person in our midst, something entertaining? You can offer one thing very clever, two things moderately clever. And three things very dull indeed." Small laughter arose from a few. "And in return, Dean will laugh heartily at our conversation and put down that book of his."

Donna, who was always quick to support her wife, smiled around and plucked up a blueberry muffin. "That shouldn't be hard. As long as we are only asked to mention three dull things. I'm always the one who have the _dullest_ things to say but three is enough. I think I can work with three if I stretch myself."

A loud guffaw from John was followed by a hearty laugh from Bobby and Castiel's small smile presented nothing but enthusiasm on a certain someone who spoke immediately after.

"That might not be enough," Dean said, entirely vexed and growing frustrated by the heat. "I think the amount of dull things you can say might be limitless and it's not your fault. Not really." His words were audible enough to catch everyone’s ears. And Dean swallowed his shame after Castiel’s glare stabbed at his contentment and in that instant, the older man turned away and shook his head in disapproval.

“I don’t think that all I have to say is bad, right? I do say a few things that are funny.”

Dean warily glanced at Donna and sighed. “Not to the person you are making jokes about. No offense, but I'd rather keep my mouth shut than make comments that are disrespectful.”

“Dean…” Ellen warned through her teeth.

“No, in all fairness, aren’t we mature enough to talk the truth?” Dean felt Castiel’s eyes on him but ignored the scrutiny because he was obviously upset. “The truth sets you free.”

“By all means read and don’t be so vocal, son,” John returned from by the tree nearest to the party. “Or else I’ll send you back home.”

Dean rolled his eyes and settled on the blanket, completely oblivious to the saddened expression resting on Donna's face as she struggled to assess her own words. Castiel highlighted the discomfort though, and casting a dissatisfied look at his childhood friend sitting next to the young man, he encouraged her to remedy the slight that was still staining the air.

“Jody, how about I tell the world the things I like about you?” Ellen said, clearly not amused and embracing the other man's pleading suggestion. “You make a wicked tuna salad, so I love that obviously. And the gift you gave me for my birthday, I’m still using it and I love it.”

“Oh you minx,” Jody laughed loudly, the two of them sharing a secret no one else was privy to. “And I’ll go next with Ellen. I love how happy you are being married to Bobby. And I love your top,” she winked at the other woman, “leave it in your will for me, will ya?”

Dean sat with his feet folded, growing uncomfortably warm in a blue and white plaid shirt with short sleeves and a pair of faded blue jeans. But then the game continued until Bobby listed the two things he hated the most about his father being his awful habit of losing tools and how he sucked at topics for conversation whilst they worked. And John returned that he didn’t like Bobby’s cap at all and his pickup truck was the spawn of the devil.

"I suppose you may all be generous on commenting on my good qualities but I'd rather much be interested in only one person's views," Castiel said afterwards when the conversation died down and everyone returned to their snacks.

"And we all know who _that_ person is," Ellen made it her mission to entertain the idea, nudging shoulders with Dean who swallowed himself into his book and was completely oblivious to his earlier disrespect. "Why don't you tell us what you love the most about Dean, huh?" this she directed at her friend sitting across the grass. "Apart from his grumpy and rude side."

"That's classified information, I'm afraid…"

"Oh! Is that so?" John piped up from a little further down the line, sharing a bottle of whiskey with Bobby. "I want you to know that once you two stake those claims on each other, he's your burden. All his little quirks. One of them being that he talks in his sleep—"

"I don't…talk in my sleep," Dean defended something which he may never be certain of.

"Oh, Cas, I love you!" Jody dramatized from by Donna's side, clearly on the path towards teasing the younger man heavily. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Right, Dean?"

Castiel, studying the younger man's face and highlighting the discomfort, came to his rescue. "I think we must not tease Dean because he might shoot daggers our way. What I will admit is that by no long stretch would he ever say such things in his sleep because I…" suddenly appearing crestfallen, Castiel sighed, "I am not who he must dream about at nights."

"Puppies and cats and Taylor Swift," Ellen said comfortably fixing a blanket around her lap.

 _If he only knew,_ Dean thought to himself, _that I was falling in love with him, then he would shut his adorable mouth and allow himself the room to hope_. And maybe the prospects of them ever ending up on the same page might take a while, because Dean wasn’t quite ready to admit his feelings for selfish reasons.

The first one being that he needed to be certain that this was what he most desired and would like the rest of his life to encompass. Without a doubt such a thing was promising, but there were other aspects of the union that created quite a feeling of anxiousness.

Physically, he savored Castiel’s close proximity, in fact, he highly favored the feeling attached to them touching each other in any possible way. Dean also craved another round of necking and wasn’t too fond of letting that toe-curling memory evaporate easily. But apart from the simple gestures, touching on the idea of _sex_ itself was something that he didn’t dwell on for a substantial amount of time. After all, novels didn’t quite elaborate on two men being intimate with each other and Dean didn’t sit down in front of his laptop as yet to indulge on some necessary research.

The only certainty derived from careful scrutiny on his feelings seemed to rest on the desire to prolong the kind of comfort and contentment and happiness he experienced when he was in Castiel’s company. Added to that, the recent tension between the two of them was close to electric and if the meeting of their eyes produced such an intense gaze that weakened his composure, then he was willing to find any opportunity to seek out Castiel’s company alone.

When the party did end up separating, quite the contrary was achieved as the _most adorable pair_ was never pursued but Castiel decided to lead Hanna away. From there, Dean decided that he was unfortunate enough to become a ridiculous toy to be cast off and made a mockery of and because he was not so long-ago swimming in adoration for the older man, those feelings gradually burned into frustration and anger.

She was not as worthy as he, so why was her company so deserving all of a sudden?

Why was Castiel going out of his way to somehow prove that Dean could be easily replaced as he directed his fondness onto another woman? Is this how love unraveled into a most unjust tale when feelings were muffled on one side and believed to be turned down from the other side?

After fifteen minutes passed by and the pair still didn’t return, he rose up and decided that time was better spent distracting himself by taking pictures instead of trying to focus on his book. He couldn’t concentrate on the plot that was turning out to be quite an enjoyable journey because apparently love was too intimidating to overwhelm and create paranoia. Therefore, with the main intent to sit on the edge of the cliff and gaze at the White Mountains, Dean left the party and wandered away through the trees.

After seated in one attitude, phone focused on the scene and experimenting with the various camera features, light laughter drifted in his direction. The sound was a little too close to be emanating from the group left behind, so craning his neck, he tried to pinpoint the origin. But after discovering that his curiosity piqued, Dean slowly wandered through the trees like a predator after a prey. And when he finally stumbled upon two people sitting on a log in very close proximity, Dean suffocated from the actuality of the intimate setting.

There was Castiel, hands folded in his lap, happily entertaining the likes of Hanna, the bubbly woman who couldn’t be more than thirty-five years old but was evidently shy and lacked exposure among groups of people where her opinion would be sought. Her pretty floral blouse and corduroy pants matched her feminine personality just enough to be most suitable for someone like Castiel. And because Dean realized that this was the third time he was consumed with jealousy, the feeling was bothersome instead of embraced.

He thought that jealousy was for the faint hearted, especially those who lacked the composure to build up a firm self-esteem. If he was so constantly in disagreement with every woman Castiel bonded with, then clearly the truth could not be denied any further. Something needed to change between them, and in order for that change to occur, Dean would have to force himself to introduce that conversation. But he wasn’t ready to have that kind of conversation because evidently the time didn’t feel most suitable to bring up the kind of things he wished to say. And what would he confess anyway, that he was suddenly in love with Castiel and only realized those feelings after the episode under the mistletoe?

How immature would that be to reveal an inclination towards the older man arising from physical awakenings of soft kisses on his neck?

Right in front of his eyes though, Dean witnessed something that perhaps cracked his heart. And maybe the gesture was small, but it was significant enough to suffocate him. It was hurtful to stand there concealed behind a tree trunk as Castiel carefully tucked a few strands of hair behind Hanna’s right ear. Then his fingers lingered there, his cupped hand caressing her cheek as the two of them chuckled and because he was so determined to ruin the moment from evolving into something that would not be easy to take back, Dean intruded.

From the moment he stepped in front of the pair, Castiel withdrew his hand and stared up at Dean as if caught in the act of murder. Blue eyes widened and his complexion took on a paler shade and Hanna who was caught in midsentence, stopped immediately and smiled at him. It was Castiel that he focused on though, with so much intensity that nothing else mattered.

“Was wondering where you went,” Dean’s voice cracked although he wished not to show any kind of discomfort. “I thought I’d get to talk to you…” maybe he should have stopped himself from continuing but the words just rushed out. “It’s nice to see that you have good company though. Didn’t even introduce me but I guess I’m not that important to be introduced. I’m Dean,” he held out a hand and whilst the hurricane swirled around inside his chest, Hanna accepted the kind gesture. “Nice to meet you.”

“Castiel’s told me so much about you, I’m sorry he didn’t introduce us. I’m Hanna.”

“Only good things, right?” Dean chuckled, completely refusing to consider blue eyes that were piercing.

Hanna smiled widely and sighed. “More than good things. We were just talking about you, actually. Just before you came.”

“Yeah?” Dean frowned and after careful examination of her features, discovered that she wasn’t lying at all. “Curious to know now what he was telling you about me.”

“I think he wouldn’t want me to tell you,” Hanna glanced at her companion quite bashfully. “It’s a secret. But it’s nice to be formally introduced to you although he slipped up.”

The older man was obviously completely wounded by the lapse on his part that his gaze lowered. “Dean, I apologize.”

“Don’t mention it. You found a very pretty replacement and you take make quite a cute couple,” green eyes met blue ones and what passed between them was absolute hurt and regret. “As you were,” he stepped back slowly, waved and then after turning his back to them, Dean’s eyes filled with tears when he walked away.

How foolish could he be to even mention something so ridiculous? _A cute couple_? Where did that come from? Possibly deep down inside of him that felt raw and painful and bleeding, Dean didn’t join the party for hours after. Instead, he sat alone quite hidden behind some bushes and from there, the tears came in abundance because he placed all the blame on himself. For acting so immaturely, for interrupting as if he possessed the right to intervene when he meant nothing really to Castiel anymore because why should he? Why should he even be of any kind of importance after falling short on affections that the older man wished to embrace?

Why must Castiel be deprived of finding love because of his spiteful jealousy, coming over and over again with as much regret as before?

Dean felt so ashamed of himself that he wiped his face roughly for a few seconds and then returned his glasses to focus on the mountains.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Ellen startled him by lowering herself on the grass and dusting off her hands that always soothed and comforted his heart over the years. “You know, might be weird of me to say this right now, but when life beats me down, I come right out here and look at the mountains. Which means that we’re similar and ain’t that a nice thought?”

Nodding slowly, Dean’s chest cracked and he couldn’t connect their eyes because every single tear would fall like rain. “Just wanted to be alone.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she wound an arm around his waist and tugged him in, the warmth of her hug instantly evaporating the pain like a hurricane inside of his chest. “I know something happened between you and Cas and like old times when me and you used to tell each other everything, lay it all on me. This time he ain’t the one you can turn to, so you got to vent on someone else.”

Dean sighed and after swallowing, his throat felt a little too constricted to even speak. But she was right. He needed to expel the words that were circling around his chest and buzzing like bees. The stings were going to be far worse than the pain felt from containing them all inside. And because he didn’t wish to burden Charlie with this kind of sorrow, then the older woman’s comfort might be necessary.

“Cas and I had an argument about two weeks ago and right when we were,” he lifted his hand for emphasis, “at the top of getting too worked up, he said that I wasn’t behaving like the man he loves.” Dean glanced at Ellen and absorbed her stunned expression. “Yeah, basically my reaction too so I kept asking him over and over again what he meant by it and he just walked away. It screwed with me in ways nothing ever has, Ellen. I felt things like I’ve never felt before when he left me…hanging. It just destroyed me because never in my life, has Cas ever left me hanging. Then after distancing himself from me for a few days, we finally talked when you had your dinner thing the other night.”

“Figured the two of you going missing had something to do with it. Could tell you weren’t talking to each other.”

“Ellen, something happened to me that night, dammit, I’m still kind of confused but I think I already know the truth and maybe I’ve known it for a long time now,” Dean turned to her and folded his legs, prepared to finally come clean. “First thing I noticed is that when he got close to me that night, I was more aware of it than any time before. And I’m talking about knowing for years that Cas gets into my personal space. Never affected me before but—”

“Suddenly it did,” Ellen nodded slowly, dusting dirt from his jeans and smiling despite herself. “Suddenly you were leaning into him and ain’t bothered by it. I noticed it because I was watching you two. But go on and tell me the whole thing before I start giving away my thoughts.”

“I sat next to him,” Dean’s voice cracked under the pressure of the memories, “and I just…I felt how far away we were from each other and it’s never happened before. And then when we started talking, I kept pressing him for the truth until he gave it to me and instead of feeling freaked out about it, I felt…” his chest heaved, “relieved. Does that even make sense? Because I haven’t felt this way before about anyone and I don’t know what the hell it means. I don’t know if feeling relieved means that I’m glad we got over the argument and we can go back to normal or it means something else.”

He said so much, more than he could have ever expelled to anyone else, that Dean’s head felt lighter all of a sudden.

“Hun, whatever’s going on between you two ain’t normal,” Ellen said matter-of-factly. “Hell, your daddy’s seen it. So did the rest of us for a long time now. We knew Cas was in love with you for years and you just couldn’t see it because he was too careful for you not to. The same way he was looking at you today? Cas looks at you like that every damn time you’re not looking at him. What’s not normal between best friends also is getting jealous when one of you grabs a woman. He cried too much over you these past four years at least and I'm talking me being a shoulder to take his tears..”

Dean’s stunned expression served as a sufficient reply and as the sky became overcast and the winds took on a colder feel, his hands began to tremble.

“It means something, Dean. If you’re telling me that you like when he touches you, then it ain’t rocket science to figure out what that means.”

“He…kissed my neck,” Dean’s face flushed after admitting it for the first time, immediately growing a little faint and smiling. “Well, we hugged and then there was a mistletoe and it happened.”

“Man, this is better than those soaps I watch on TV.” Ellen laughed, patting Dean on his cheek playfully. “How do you feel about him though? Like _really_ feel about him.”

Dean shook his head and stared at the mountains in the distance that seemed so far away but were so close. “I want to kiss him.”

“Then…” Ellen tipped her head and stared back in amazement, “ _kiss_ him. What you waiting for? Snow to show up and put a chill on things? None of us ain’t getting younger. He sure ain’t.”

“I can’t just walk up to him and do it, dammit. I need to think things through and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what all of this means.”

“You keep thinking and that Hanna woman will steal your future husband away from you. Didn’t want to admit it to you earlier but I think Cas is using her because he either wants to make you get jealous or she’s a nice distraction to get over you. Seems like the first one’s working. But the second will break your damn heart. You don’t want when you’re ready to tell him how you feel, he’s killed those feelings. Sure, those feelings been there for years now but there’s only so much someone can hang onto hope.”

When the words rested between them for a while, Dean still understood that it wasn’t the right time to confess his feelings because his gut decided that patience was necessary. However, the fearful part of losing Castiel to Hanna was too terrible to carry and although he understood that certain matters needed to be addressed immediately in order to prevent further damage, this wasn’t the time to jump out and admit that he was experiencing jealousy for the third time.

If there was one thing Castiel detested, it was any display of immaturity, especially on his behalf.

“Here I am sitting all alone, falling in love with him and he thinks that I don’t feel the same way, huh?” Dean leaned into Ellen’s shoulder and she pressed a kiss onto his cheek. “Can life ever be fair? I keep thinking about the age difference too. He’s twenty years older than me which means when I’m barely sixty, he’ll be eighty-five and it sucks because I was born a little too late.”

“Bobby’s twenty years older than me and it ain’t so bad. Age is just a number, sweetheart. Everything just happens naturally when you’re in love. The hardest part for you might be realizing that you ain’t going to be able to get your own kid unless you use a surrogate and when it’s time to move in together, you’ll have to adjust to intruding on each other’s space. Took me a while to get used to Bobby sharing things with me. But you learn to do it. It ain’t easy, Dean. It’s not going to be easy for you if you two take this jump. You just got to remember why you started doing it and focus on how much you love each other.”

“Always know the right things to say,” Dean melted into her hug, and really believed that she was more like a mother to him than even the memories of Mary because of the lack of years in getting to know her. “I haven’t even thought about moving in with him as yet. Just goes to show how much my life would change if we go there.”

“You got to start thinking about it. Don’t take this the wrong way but you also got to start thinking about when things will get physical between you two. Sex is not the same. Do your research, I can’t tell you what to expect,” she squeezed his arm playfully and chuckled. “Unless you want to get Balthazar to give you a pep talk—”

“No way, not in this lifetime,” Dean shivered from the thought. “But thanks for bringing it up because I’ve been busy falling in love like a girl that I haven’t thought about how different it would be to…you know.”

“I’ll tell you this though and listen good,” Ellen pushed herself up and dusted dirt from her hands. “He’s got a damn fine body under those clothes. Walked in two times on him exercising in his gym and from what I saw, you might be quick to jump him. Don’t waste time though. And speaking of Mister Sexy, here he comes. I’ll be gone. Good luck.” She waved at the older man approaching before quickly heading off to join the party.

Dean though, was immediately mortified by the sight of Castiel coming in his direction and no matter how much he tried to gain some sense of composure, his knees weakened. His mind grew dizzy and because the conversation with Ellen was still fresh from the feel of his tears shed not so long ago, he couldn’t breathe properly. And apparently Castiel was a little too flushed to conceal his anxiousness too.

“Dean,” his footsteps stalled five feet away and those blue eyes were bright.

“I wonder if they’re ready to head back. It looks like rain is coming in less than half an hour,” the younger man reared his head and tried to pinpoint the group through the trees.

But Castiel was determined to continue regardless. “Dean, I must speak to you,” he said rather angrily, and his tone immediately stilled the other man’s heart. “I cannot see you behaving so without speaking my mind.” When Dean stared back in disbelief, the older man’s face creased from being absolutely disappointed. “Badly done, Dean,” he said in a stern tone.

“Huh?” Not again, not now and not like this. Not when his heart was far too fragile to survive another argument.

“How could you behave the way you did today? Hmm? How could you begin this lovely picnic by being so unfeeling towards Donna? You did not think it possible that she was trying the best she could to add a little humor to the conversation?”

Dean frowned deeply and shook his head, trying immediately to ease his worries about a full-fledged argument on the horizon. “Dammit, Cas. I couldn’t help it. I couldn't sit around and listen to her talk about dull things when she's always been dull. Nobody could have resisted but I was just the one who talked about it. It wasn’t so bad. Besides everyone seemed fine afterwards, including her.”

“Oh, I can guarantee you that your words wounded her. Even Jody noticed and tried to console her after the damage was done. How patient you must have been with her all these years, and then suddenly you find her remarks lacking of sense!”

Dean, clearly overwhelmed as well and angered strode forward. “I’m sorry. Of course, she’s a very nice person who has a kind heart and means well. But you have to admit that it was a little bit ridiculous. Come on. I just thought she could have done better.”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded, hands behind his back. “And was she your age or your chum, I would have allowed you some liberties. But she’s not. Dean. She’s not your equal and therefore you disappointed by being disrespectful to a woman who holds a high position in society as the Sheriff and deserves much more credit from you. She should attract your compassion, not your contempt!

Dean stared back as the other man’s tone cut him like a sharp knife, his heart squeezing from pain because he never bothered about scolding before. In fact, he accepted the harshness without crumbling so much. But this time it was so severe because of his concealed feelings that Castiel’s anger wounded him enough to deliver nothing but silence.

“And continuing on the same note,” the older man seemed oblivious to the change on Dean’s countenance, “why on earth would you choose to embarrass me in front of Hanna? Hmm? It appears as if you’ve clearly been altered to completely forget every act of decency you’ve been taught. Of course, it slipped me that introductions weren’t made but you had no right suggesting that I am using her as a replacement for you. Contrary to what you might think, my entire life does not belong to you and therefore I am allowed to have other friends of substantial importance who deserve respect as well.”

The tears felt hot on his face, clouding his vision and weakening his knees and still Dean couldn’t say anything because he was breaking inside. And because he remained stifled by the words collecting inside of his throat, his chest heaved uncontrollably.

“Dean, you are better than this,” Castiel’s tone softened tremendously as the two of them stared at each other, tears glistening in blue eyes. “You are acting like a child and you are not a child anymore. Someone needs to tell you about these things and I very well am compelled to. You are a man and you’ve aged into a very admirable one because I’ve been privy to such qualities. I know that you’re capable of holding your tongue and showing humility,” the older man sounded fatigued as he batted a tear away. “I am displeased and bruised and I cannot understand why you are behaving like this.”

“Cas…I just…” Dean croaked, but the words just wouldn’t come out. The words were stuck inside his throat and barely moved and because he couldn’t confess his feelings, of how much he loved and needed him, he became cold and broken.

“Yes?” Castiel’s voice faltered a little more as he reached up and dabbed at his tears. He pleaded with his eyes, trying to unearth something, but Dean provided silence. “What is happening to you? Dean, you must talk to me.”

When nothing was said though, the older man’s chest heaved uncontrollably and he nodded, clearly irritated.

“Very well then. I’d like you to apologize to Donna at once since I’ve excused your behavior to Hanna. In her mind, you are young and allowed the privilege to exercise your follies but to me there are no excuses. Therefore, you must right your wrongs and learn from them. Understood?”

Nodding and breaking the connection between their eyes, Dean hugged himself and accepted that it wasn’t the right moment to express himself because the other man was clearly insulted and angered. Nothing good could come out of such emotions, and he wasn’t prepared to poke the bear with a stick to enact something he couldn’t handle.

“Badly done, Dean. I am far too displeased by your behavior. It is not admirable at all,” Castiel softly said, then he slowly turned away and began to retreat.

"Not admirable for the man you're in love with, right?" the words gushed out so quickly, that Dean's chest felt empty and painful afterwards when the two of them stared at each other.

Castiel's countenance registered nothing but shock at first and then quickly he swallowed his feelings and gained composure. "Stop it, Dean," he said stiffly, obviously revved up by a lot of anger which wasn't shown. "Stop trying to pick at my scabs when I'm trying to allow my damn wounds to heal. You have no right doing this to me. None at all. So…just…" brushing his fingers to his forehead, Castiel sighed, "…leave me alone if your intentions are to torment me further. Goodbye."

Dean stood there for a long time and realized that this was the third time the older man’s growing distance punished his heart. The first was when he realized that every night after dinner, he would curl up on the window seat and follow the retreating figure. The second was Castiel walking away from him after revealing a painful secret and now the third possibly returned them both to the aftermath of the last argument. Only difference this time was the known feelings and the desire inside of Dean to wipe away the anger from hating himself so much after lacking the courage of opening up to reveal the truth.

Sinking onto the grass once more, he buried his face into shaking hands and choked on sobs because he wished that Castiel belonged to him. He didn’t want to wait five, ten years and then have to break down after learning that he was wedded to someone else. He wanted more than ever to hold him close, to taste his lips softly and to prove to him that their lives weren’t their own. They belonged to each other in more ways than they cared to admit. And because the space terrified and wounded him, Dean didn’t believe that he could face the older man again for a while. Not until he distanced himself enough to regain the same maturity that was admirable.

Whatever was happening to him was not admirable and therefore he needed to fit the pieces back together again before even thinking about expelling anything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mention of suicidal thoughts.
> 
> I'm never sorry about the angst. But I don't want you to lose hope, so something BIG happens in the next chapter and it's what you've all been waiting for. FINALLY.

**_Excerpt:_ **

_He sat up groggily and stared into his nephew’s wide hazel eyes because apparently the toddler was capable of climbing and managed to plant himself on his uncle’s stomach._

_“Hi buddy. Don’t judge me, okay? Your uncle…is totally gay.”_

_“Not cool coming out to my son, man,” Sam’s towering figure beamed down at him. “Here,” he held out a bottle of water and ruffled the toddler’s soft brown hair. “Your boyfriend demanded that I make sure you eat and drink water.”_

_“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean collected his namesake into his arms and sat up weakly, accepting the water._

* * *

"I find that the damn television slights me whenever Judge Judy is on, I swear," John declared as Dean entered the living room the following day.

It was an overcast one for obvious reasons, weighing down on his mind, body and soul and threatening to destroy his belief in himself. Crying would not do, such weaknesses declared that Dean was far too damaged to heal or ever change and despite his absence of sleep, he was experiencing a different kind of tiredness. It was very close to considering himself a failure and a young man who was not worthy of anything but scolding.

Therefore, when he stepped into the space that afternoon, his thoughts were elsewhere for a few seconds, believing that John was arguing with the television. But after Dean lifted his eyes and discovered no other than Castiel resting on one of the chairs, he stiffened, ceased walking and forgot how to breathe.

Of course the two of them enacted a prolonged gaze, which was their signature gesture whenever something bruised the friendship. They would try to search for answers, whether the bond was still cemented or lost forever and despite the faintest smile delivered from the older man, when Dean settled on the seat next to his friend, he did so silently.

The absence of a greeting did not bode well with Castiel, who continued to stare but after John remarked on how his son's complexion paled and worried that he might be ill, the younger man shook his head.

"Just under the weather, I guess."

"Nothing a good cup of tea and a chat with a best friend can't fix. Am I right?" his father's suggestions seemed so trivial in that moment, compared to the real reason why he was so wounded.

"Not sure if I have one of those anymore. All things considering," Dean shrugged and felt so ashamed of himself onto that very second, despite the picnic over a day old, "I don’t have any kindness in me anymore. All of my friends would probably think that I just don't have that quality."

"You still have a best friend. A true friend," Castiel spoke up immediately in his gravelly tone, "wouldn't doubt your kindness. But keeps on hoping that all of your remarkable qualities are maintained."

For a long time, the two of them gazed at each other, until John discarded the intense moment and focused on the television clearing up the static to display Judge Judy in all her glory. Even though the room wasn't silent though, the space between them was so serene for a few minutes whilst drowning in each other's eyes.

It was the most beautiful experience Dean had ever experienced, the way Castiel seemed to latch onto everything he possessed in order to maintain that connection. And despite their recent quarrel and the tears he seemed to relieve himself of constantly over the course of two weeks, Dean couldn't prevent the moment from occurring again.

His eyes glistened as he blinked slowly, and inhaling deeply, he tried to speak volumes through that one gaze which honestly felt like a lifeline keeping him anchored. But it was a façade, that much was obvious, from the moment he returned to the picnic, the moment he realized that bruises took time to heal and words spoken could never be retracted. What was said, wounded him in ways he could never recover from for a while. When he tried to muffle the pain at nights, the nightmares that followed consisted of drowning in the depths of the lake whilst his best friend, the man he was falling in love with, wrapped another woman inside his arms and kissed her on the safety of dry land.

"I must apologize, but I have to leave," Castiel said after some time had passed by and rising up from the chair. "I…" when Dean leapt up a second after, blue eyes widened from the reflexive move until the younger man glanced away and remained where he was in an awkward attitude. "I have to accompany Hanna to do some shopping. As it may seem like something I do not partake in at all," Castiel tried a smile but Dean's face fell into a wounded look, "I will entertain her request. I do care about her."

Cracks and pain centered behind his temples was all he experienced whilst standing there and appearing like a complete fool. Dean couldn’t understand why he was so easily cast away without further clarity on his feelings. _His_ feelings…that changed drastically and never stopped, that made him wonder whether he was even loved in the first place by a man who was hell-bent on proving otherwise.

Castiel was pursuing Hanna, that much was evident to Dean and because he became so sure of the truth, he reached up, dabbed away the tears whilst his _friend_ observed all of it. And refusing to even look at him once again, to even give him the gratification of acknowledging that everything he said prior would settle as comforting, Dean nodded.

"Yeah, well you do that. Wish you luck, man," his voice hoarsened until John turned to stare at the two of them with a worried expression. "Load the gun and keep firing at me, right?"

Castiel's expression matched the older Winchester's own and he still tried to search for answers. "Dean, is everything okay?"

Did he honestly have the audacity to ask such a question after what he had accomplished in such a short span of time? Wounding without being aware of his cruel actions? People were proving to be very cruel and cold, that Dean did not understand why he was on the receiving end of such displeasure. He wondered if he was sinking so low once more that his worth was overlooked and his importance didn't suffice as worthy anymore. After all, didn't he place a significant amount of trust, love and security in the man standing before him? Where did all of that disappear in such a short time?

"I can't do this, Cas…" shaking his head, Dean's face contorted from the heightened struggle to refrain from crying, "…just can't do this with you anymore, man."

"You just can't do _what_?"

"Are you serious right now?" Dean stared back and completely weakened from the inability of being understood by someone he thought knew him like the back of his hand. "You really don't know what this is about?"

"Dean," Castiel's tone was strained as he searched green eyes, "if I knew, would I be asking you?"

"Less than a week and you're proving to me that all of it meant nothing."

"What are you talking about, Dean—"

"I mean nothing to you, is that it?"

Castiel stared back, completely mortified and after glancing at John, he returned his scrutiny into eyes that provided nothing but pain and fear. "Is this about our last words?"

"You're ridiculous," Dean shook his head, astonished by the inability of the older man to understand where he made the most painful mistake. "Our last words? Is that _all_?"

"Dean, I don’t know what you're referring to!"

"You're screwing with my damn mind!" the younger man fired back and realized that he was shaking, his fists cut his nails into palms that felt cold and dead.

John rose up from the chair, and realized that his intervention was needed. "Now, look, the two of you need to calm down—"

"Stop playing games with me, man," Dean ignored his father's interruption and could only focus on Castiel who was displaying that he was angered when he was the cause of so much discomfort between them. "Stop making me feel like crap. Stop baiting me and then dropping me hard on my ass because it's not okay. You know, the second I decide to make this go away, without thinking it through, I hope you're happy—"

"Son…" John drew nearer immediately, his concern deepening and he rested a reassuring hand on Dean's back. "Come now, son. Don't talk like that. Whatever's happening here, is no reason to talk yourself down low. The two of you came a long way to be bitching like this."

For a long time Dean stared at Castiel, wondering if he would ever learn to trust him again. He silently wished that certain words were never exchanged, that the night at Ellen and Bobby's Christmas dinner never occurred. That aching to learn the truth would have been something he refrained from pursuing because now that he understood the meaning, he realized one thing most abundantly clear.

Love was never meant for him.

Everyone came in and then they left.

Would it be too cliché that he resorted to confiding in someone far too superior than anyone else?

"Okay, Dean," Castiel said in an uneven tone, his chest heaving as he delivered a concerned stare. "Despite your inability to recognize that I still care…immensely for you…" those blue eyes widened after the younger man scoffed and turned away, "I am far from leaving our friendship. I wish that I can understand what is happening to you, but _Dean_ , you're refusing to speak to me. There are things I am so certain that you wish to say to me but you're holding back and I can't continue to keep guessing what those things are."

"Maybe you _know_ what I'm trying to say to you but you just don't want to believe it. Because why believe me, right? Why would you even think that someone like me would ever…" the tears came so fast, flowed like a river and Dean's face contorted as he stepped away.

"Would ever, _what_ , Dean?" Castiel croaked, stepping forward and closing the distance between them but the younger man decided that he couldn't openly speak about such things in front of his father and therefore, he strode to the staircase. "Dean!" the older man followed hastily, reaching the steps and holding onto the railing, "speak to me. Tell me what it is—"

"If I could turn back time, I'd take it all back because this hurts…so much. You can't even begin to see what the hell you're doing to me right now. It's like you just don't get it, that I'm literally dying inside every single time you talk about her. And you know what the worst part is?" Dean reached up weakly and wiped away his tears as they stared at each other. "You didn't even give me time to come to terms with all of it. You just decided for both of us that you're going to get over me. Have a good life, Cas—"

"Dean, what do you—"

"Have a good life," and climbing the stairs, the younger man found his bedroom door, locked it after entering and then tumbled onto his bed.

The knocking followed as expected, the calling out of his name and then Castiel becoming angered by the selfish thought that he was entitled to feel like the victim, at least that's what Dean thought of him. Playing the victim as if nothing was ever his fault, none of the slights mattered and Hanna was simply a _friend_ who was passing through.

How could she be anything else but a lover?

The thought of Castiel kissing Hanna, touching her, making love to her caused Dean to bury his face into the pillow and shake from dry sobs because he was already drained from crying. He wanted to drown, to die, to disappear and never come back until all of his feelings were buried and long past and as the knocking continued, he pushed himself up. John had a key, and that's what Dean feared they would use to come into his space, is sanctuary where he could become himself, his raw, true self and where no one could invade. And as he lay there listening to the silence which stretched on, something else became quite clear in the air.

"He's not alright!" Came John's raised voice from downstairs, drifting under the door, "you take one look at my boy and see how he's gone pale like a ghost. He's not eating like he used to and he's been crying any chance he gets. Damn you, Cas, for whatever the hell you did."

"I don't know what I did to cause this," Castiel would never lift his tone no matter how fierce the argument became between the two. "If he could only speak to me—"

"You need him to talk more than he's already doing? Jesus, Cas, it's as plain as day what's happening here—"

"Why don't you enlighten me what I'm clearly _not_ seeing then…" came the other man's uneven tone, "because I'm obviously so oblivious to whatever is happening to him and it's killing me."

"Dean's far from the kid who used to run around behind you every chance he got. Now that he's turned into a man, he's been looking at you different and it's a shame to know that you can't see it. When you're the first one who jumped. You're the first one who caught feelings and now that he's…falling apart from feeling the same way, you're behaving like a brick wall."

"That's ridiculous," Castiel said softly, "he would never feel the same way as I do—"

"Yeah, well you got your head so far up your ass, you ain't even realizing it. Keep running around with that friend of yours. It wouldn't get you my son. It will get you a boring life you ain't want with a woman who will never love you as my boy does."

"John, don't you think that I know all of this already?"

"Then go up there and ask him."

"Ask him what?" Castiel's strained tone broke Dean's heart further from the inability to recognize the truth. "Do you wish the friendship Dean and I have to end completely?"

"There ain't no friendship anymore! You're in love with him, he's smitten over you and the only thing you two can be going forward is in a relationship. You can't go back to being friends, Cas."

When the truth hit him, coming from no other than his own father, Dean became so cold that he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. For a long time, he considered such a statement, being that they would never be able to return to being just friends but would need to make a decision to either take a break from each other or dive into a relationship. And Dean became so terrified of the last option that a dull migraine throbbed behind his temples because he never ever succeeded in relationships.

He failed because of the other person never proving to be capable of understanding certain things; like there was a lot more expected in a relationship than a friendship. Blooming from one to the other required a lot more openness which his girlfriends before could never comply with. They couldn't adapt and couldn't understand how disagreements and fights were bumps that could be worked on to achieve a compromise so that they could move forward. And being in a relationship with his ultimate best friend? The one person who knew him inside out and was literally intimate with him in many ways apart from physically?

Dean's appearance before the altar the following day proved to be something that immersed his soul in a kind of sensation that was too conflicting to dwell on for too long. Kneeling on the dark velvet cushion, he clasped his hands, and eyes fluttering close before opening wide again, he stared at the cross where a man actually died for his sins. There he was, about to enquire after something which was too sinful and did he really expect God of all people to aid in any possible way?

He needed to try at least, to wound his words carefully without sounding too desperate.

"It's not like I don't remember you," Dean began, in a hushed tone, despite the closed church. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept the tears at bay. "I don't usually want to tie up the lines, so that people who need you can reach you. This time though, I'm going to try to get to you so that you can help me. Because if you can't, then I'm lost."

He couldn't say it.

He needed to.

"I’m at the end of the rope here, hanging on barely. And all there is, is pain and confusion and guilt. In more ways than one, I can't sort this out on my own and he's not making it easy. But love isn't supposed to be easy, right? Maybe you're going to say that this kind of love isn't supposed to happen because he's…not a woman. And me about to ask you to give me faith might not be such a good idea. But there's nothing left. I…" Dean squeezed out tears through his closed eyelids. "I love him so much, that it hurts. It…hurts so damn much. Does this mean that it's not right? Should I turn away because it might take me a long time to get over the way I feel about him but it's not like I asked for it. It's not like I understood what it meant or I wanted to wake up one day and fall in love with another man. I just didn't see it coming and it hit me so hard that now I'm trying to catch up. And the worst part is, that it feels like I'm suffering from jet lag, because whilst my heart has been racing ahead and realizing that I've probably been in love with him for a long time now, my brain is trying to catch up. And it's not fair. It's not fair that I feel like I was brought on this earth to be with him. We complement each other so perfectly, you know?"

Dean chuckled, sniffed and glanced around only to realize that he was still alone. And how painful it was to listen to the silence and understand that maybe he really _was_ alone.

"God, why can't I tell him? Why is it so hard to just say it? What if I say it and it's not the right thing to say? What if he's not the one when I feel like he's my soul mate? What if people are right when they say to think rationally than follow your heart? What if we can never work and I'm going to just stop him from having his best chance with someone else? I don't want him to be with her," Dean croaked, and stared up at the cross before swallowing. "I'm so selfish but that's just me and I can't let him be with her because I want him. I want to be the one he spends the rest of his life with."

He left the church that day utterly weak and devastated without any answers and feeling more lost than before.

When he decided to escape to New York two days after, one particular person was never informed of the trip he would take outside of Littleton and although efforts were made to successfully deliver the message, it was never done.

The following night after their argument, which was by far the worst to Dean because he felt even more bruised for various reasons, Castiel didn’t come to dinner. He excused himself to keep Hanna and his brother company at the movies and therefore the weight in Dean’s chest grew heavier as suspicions arose. Therefore, after inwardly debating on whether he should call Castiel up and inform him of the visit, Dean decided not to.

 _My entire life does not belong to you_.

Those words haunted his dreams and created nightmares that lasted all the way to New York and because he drove the Impala alone, his mind became his worst enemy as it taught him to fight with concentration and feelings at the same time. His vision became blurred many times after crying and occasionally Dean reached for his phone, hoping that a message would come through asking where he disappeared to because he was absolutely missed. But none came even after he settled on the couch in his brother’s small living room and drifted into a deep sleep that lasted for two hours.

He was so close to the end.

By the time he woke up, Dean was prepared to make the call and confess his feelings to Castiel. He couldn’t understand why it was so difficult to just say five words, _I'm in love with you,_ when the two of them said so many things to each other over the years. Hurtful things most recently, words that opened wounds and scratched at old scabs and forced him to feel terrible enough to cry when he seldom did before.

He became more certain of the most hurtful truth after reaching New York and suffocating from the distance; that Castiel diverted his affections to Hanna in the hopes of pursuing a most definite match. The two of them were very suited, great chemistry and the perfect visage of a couple that could consume a frame above a fireplace with the most comfortable looking smiles. That is why Dean was convinced enough to believe that the plan, after kicking off, was on its way towards blossoming into a romance. And because he couldn’t stomach the prospects of growing old and living with the reality that Castiel was married to someone else, his heart cracked in many places, he couldn’t even imagine such torture before.

Just after Sam announced that he was determined to show his brother what an afternoon in the city looked like for a newcomer, Dean dressed unwillingly and complied. He wasn’t disappointed though, because being in the place that spun with lights and seas of faces was an entirely different experience than he would have ever imagined.

The smells of different foods, the hustling to complete Christmas shopping and laughter in the air. The backed-up lines of traffic and a multitude of entertainment screens; all of it was a little too much for him since he favored the simplicity and peacefulness of Littleton.

In three hours, the two of them covered a few famous spots like Central Park and the Statue of Liberty, trying to capture the perfect selfie and being photobombed by Sam, Dean was clearly trying to distract himself thus far. He mainly focused on photos to glorify the moments; like the Empire State Building climbing up as far as his neck could tilt upwards. But the Chrysler Building held a remarkable amount of pleasure to him because of Castiel’s continuous awe after visiting many years ago. The older man always claimed that he believed angels are exactly as tall as the landmark and standing in front of it, Dean could not become less mesmerized by the glory.

He discovered after their well spent afternoon though, that Sam’s idea of a good time, just like the old days, was knocking a few beers at a prestige club called The Boardroom, dimly lit and entertaining an elite crowd. Now this wouldn’t have come as a surprise to him if he honestly tugged his heart out of a pit of feels and latched onto his brother’s intentions.

From childhood, Sam chose his acquaintances carefully and thus far, he placed himself among crowds of people who were of a certain class in order to motivate himself to climb higher. Nothing was wrong with that kind of determination, and apparently Dean fitted in perfectly because his turtleneck sweater and black framed glasses gave him the appearance of a spoiled, sophisticated and rich young man.

Very soon, his awful habit of glancing at his phone irritated Sam who, after sliding a beer over to his brother, offered nothing but a worried look.

“You got a girlfriend back home or something?”

Dean actually smiled from the misused label and sipped his beer. “Nah, definitely not one of those.”

Immediately hazel eyes widened and Sam almost choked on a mouthful of potato chips. “Good God, is it…” his voice lowered into a whisper as he glanced around them, “…Cas? Did it finally happen?”

When Dean sighed and avoided eye contact, his brother swore and dragged his stool closer, evidently willing to initiate one of their very few heart-to-hearts. And it wasn’t either of their faults that the connection faded tremendously over the years. When the two of them reveled in their teenage years, their crowds differed and because of the lack of similarities, neither could ever gain a full understanding of the other’s decisions and likes. But they both tried their best to fall onto common ground, because their bond was necessary at times when life threw bricks instead of wonderful moments.

After Dean briefly updated Sam who was fuming from being the late receiver of such news, the most recent argument was fleshed out and explained in detail. Admitting he absolutely acted rather immaturely was something that Sam brushed off instantly because he was of the impression that Dean’s reactions were justified.

If there was one thing he adored the most about his brother was that no matter how heavy the self-denial became, Sam always chose his side. And because Dean felt like someone was throwing out a lifejacket amidst the storm inside of his chest, he held onto it and slowly drifted to shore.

“Are you or are you not in love with him.” Sam folded his arms upon the table and considered his brother’s face with severe scrutiny.

Dean, of course, already admitted the truth to Ellen but he could not dwell on the same feelings that ravished him for the entire day thus far. “All I know is that there’s something.”

“Something like what?”

“Sammy, it’s I’m far gone, okay?” Dean’s voice strained from the pressure. “Dammit, I’m buried deep before I could even realize it and now, I’m nowhere close to knowing what the hell to do about it all.”

Sam was staring, “which pretty much means that Cas has no idea how you feel. Dude! Come on, man. You think it’s fair to leave him in the dark like this? The guy’s probably suffering from feeling like he’s all alone and you’re too constipated to say three words.”

“That’s the thing though. It’s not about saying just three damn words. We’ve said that before to each other for years now. Back when I was a kid, I used to tell him I love him all the damn time when he gave me books. Now though, it’s more than that.”

“It’s more like, hey Cas, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Exactly,” Dean picked up his beer and drank, their eyes on each other, but he understood that there would never be any judgments between them. “And the worst part is, once I say it, I can’t take it back so I keep trying to make sure that it’s really what I think it is. And it’s not just a phase.”

“I mean, fine, I get that,” Sam sighed and softened up enough to lean back in his seat. “I have a friend, he’s straight as ever. But like two years ago he fell in love with this guy or at least he thought he did. Only picked up it was a phase after the two of them screwed each other and then he realized that he just wanted to know what it felt like. Shit damaged him pretty badly. I think he ended up fucking around with a few other guys before finding Leah, his girlfriend now.” When Dean groaned, elbows on the table and raking his fingers through his hair, Sam leaned forward. “Hey, look, if you ask me, I don’t think it’s a phase you’re going through. Coming from your brother who’s spent a lot of time watching you and Castiel interact, I think something’s there on your side.”

“Okay, fine, tell me what you’ve noticed from _me_ then,” Dean collected his beer and appeared quite frustrated.

“Well,” Sam folded his arms and smiled, “mostly sexual tension.”

“Come on!” Dean slammed the bottle on the table, scowled and sat back, slightly infuriated. “Be serious with me here, man.”

“I’m serious! Even Jess noticed it the first time she saw the two of you together. Loads of sexual tension. You laugh at everything the dude says even if it’s not funny. You always sit next to him at dinner. You don’t have a problem sharing the same glass with him whilst you want to rip my head off if I drink from your beer. Apart from that, you’re always touchy with him. You keep glancing at his lips, like _a lot._ Look, from the time you chose to watch TCM movies with him on Sundays back when you were like nineteen onwards, I knew something was up with you two. I'd come downstairs and catch you sitting so close like a freaking couple, I started to wonder if you were secretly one. And lots of other things too.”

“I don’t know if I’m sexually attracted to him, Sammy.”

“Only one way to find out,” the wide grin on the younger Winchester’s face was enough to suggest a wide range of mischievous thoughts. “Check him out.”

“It’s kind of hard to do when he wears like three layers of clothes,” Dean pointed out the obvious, frowning at his empty beer bottle. “I don’t exactly have laser eyes. And besides, he’s got the same things I have. It’s not like wondering what a girl’s boobs look like or other parts of her, you know?”

“Ah! We don’t all have the same things. We have various sizes. Toned or not toned? Bulging or skinny arms? I feel absolutely gay saying this but Cas is definitely toned as fuck. When he and I used to work out a while ago, not like I was looking but the dude’s got some decent tones going. And just to fuck you up a little more, he's packing.”

“You sure you’re not the one falling for him?” Dean frowned but only intended his words as a joke, after all, his brother understood him too well to immediately chuckle at the question. “And anyway, I haven’t even looked.”

“You also need to _feel_.”

“Bitch—”

“Jerk,” Sam returned with a heavy smile and shrugging shoulders. “Look, man. The truth is, this is something you’ve got to figure out on your own. Nobody can do it for you because it’s not something that I can give you advice on. What I can tell you though is to push all the Hanna stuff behind you and focus on how much you’re attracted to him. If it’s just sexual, which it most obviously isn’t, then it’s a big no for me. If this is a long-term thing you’re looking to have with him, then go for it. The two of you’ve come a long way already, only fair that you should continue being together since you know each other so damn well. I envy you, Dean. Jess and I barely got a few years compared to you and Cas. I’m still learning about her and you’ve got twenty-five years of knowledge on the guy you’re in love with. That’s by far the best thing ever, man.”

For a few seconds, Dean waited in silence enough to absorb the words and then he nodded slowly. “There are things I haven't ever told him though. Thanks, Sammy. Means a lot. More than you realize.”

“Any time, nerd. You want another beer?”

Dean nodded and rose up from the table feeling all too drained after telling the same tale about his woes to Ellen and now his brother. “Yeah, let me get them. In the meantime, head over to the pools table because I know you’re itching for a match. And from the looks of it, a bunch of retards are hitting it up over there.”

“Easy money,” Sam followed suit, flatted his red shirt and smiled broadly. “I actually know one of them so it’s not so bad.”

He felt like a small amount of weight was lifted off his chest, but then again, the pending phone call still mattered the most. The lack of words and respect on his part, after knowing what the right thing was and doing the opposite was deserving of a scolding that Dean was too tired to receive after three successful arguments.

But after sitting on the stool by the bar and watching Sam high five some buddies, he used the solace to reflect. And after deciding that the only way to achieve some sleep tonight was to at least send a text, Dean tugged out his mobile and nervously scrolled for Castiel’s number.

_Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you that I would be coming to NY. You missed dinner last night and I left early this morning. Hope you are well. – Dean_

He hit his thumb on SEND and continued to hold his breath for a long time after the message was immediately read and Castiel’s status registered as ONLINE. Apparently, the older man was frequently in possession of his phone and perfectly latched on to such, or maybe, he was awaiting the message all day. The latter seemed to be the most obvious reason based on the response that came after a long while.

_Thanks for finally informing me. I wondered whether we were still best friends. Most hurtful to hear the news from John after I visited this morning, hoping to see you and speak to you. Have a good weekend, Dean._

The abundance of sarcasm and disappointment oozing from between every sentence was digested by Dean like slow poison. The sudden farewell too, bidding him an enjoyable trip wasn’t comforting. Dean felt like Castiel’s last words were rather hurtful and instantly suggested that the conversation continuing was most definitely not possible.

But since he was Dean, the one who entertained a challenge and savored the last word, Castiel’s message was followed by a very elaborate response.

_I should ask YOU the same damn thing. Glad that you went looking for me though. At least I still mean something to you._

Dean literally sat there on the stool, brooding and pensive and stared at his mobile screen until the battery decreased by five percent. Evidently Castiel was online, but the older man seemed to be stalling on a response, as if he was still trying to digest the words. Then when Dean stared at the TYPING status, he settled into an anxious state and sipped on his beer.

“You coming over or what?” Sam clapped him on the back and glanced at the phone. When their eyes met, he sighed. “Oh, ah, well in that case then, take your time, man. Pools can wait but love can’t.” Then collecting his beer, the younger Winchester returned to the table and continued the game.

Dean on the other hand, remained so tense, he eventually discovered that taking measured breaths was a struggle. Thank goodness he didn’t initiate the conversation via calling the older man or else the tremor in his voice would become much more evident and then the tears may burst forth. But evidently such tears weren’t necessary after he stared at the response on his phone.

_Dean, you mean the world to me and always will! This is what you were referring to? I do admit that I acted quite out of order on Sunday. I should not have done that to you, by bringing a friend along and flaunting her. It was most disrespectful on my part and therefore my anger delivered was unjust. I am most ashamed of how I behaved._

_I am trying to get over my feelings for you by encouraging distractions. Hanna may be one of those and I hope that you are quite happy if I’m successful. There should be no room for jealousy because you will always be close to my heart and no one can ever replace you._

The tears flowed, they most certainly did after the last message and because he was too fatigued to reply, Dean locked his phone and settled onto the chair. His heart was squeezing from the pain of holding back a confession, but his brain was screaming for those words to remain inside of his head. And because both were at war, Dean’s only alternative was to drink; something he never did frequently.

_You do you, Cas. I could be dead and you wouldn't realize the truth._

Castiel typed, then stopped, then tried calling and was denied until the typing resumed. By then, Dean was swallowing his second beer and really dying inside that he couldn't pull himself back up for air.

_Why would you say something like that to me? What is the truth? Dean, please answer your phone and talk to me._

No.

Selfishly, he sat there on the stool and continued to convince himself that he wasn't worthy, despite the inability to confess. If he did manage to belt out those five words, then it would make no difference because he had officially fucked up. He pushed too far, broke too many things between them and didn't deserve to be loved. In fact, Hanna was the better candidate, wasn't she? Castiel shouldn't be with someone who couldn’t muffle his jealousy and preferred to dwell on such a damaging feeling over and over again.

Three missed calls.

_I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone._

Feeling his heart strain inside his chest, he angrily stared at his phone as the message was read and although he really had no intention of waiting on a reply, he couldn't help himself.

_Okay. I'll leave you alone._

Burying his face into folded arms, Dean cried softly until he began to feel so cold.

It was only after his fourth beer when he realized that someone occupied the stool next to him; a very handsome young man possibly around the same age as he, with the most mesmerizing blue eyes and tamed brown hair. The two of them briefly glanced at each other and then returned to their beers. But after an unsettling silence fell between the two, Dean’s intoxicated mind as usual forced him to engage the stranger in a conversation. And very soon, the two of them were exploring their views on New York and examining their different tastes in television shows.

“You’re going quite hard at it though,” the college student identified, dressed in a black tank and faded blue jeans, his biceps bulging. “Only thing I can think about that’s driving you crazy is something to do with love.”

“That obvious, huh?” Dean folded his arms on top of the bar and smiled. “More like screwed at this point.”

“I’m actually not good at this, my pickup lines suck,” Nate said with a shrug, and laughed. “But I’ll try anyway. Since this person is obviously giving you a shitty time, maybe you should do something to get over them. They always say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

Dean stared back and blinked a few times before his intoxicated mind latched onto the meaning. “Shit, you’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“Dude,” Nate laughed heartily, and his cheeks flushed, “am I doing a good job at it? You look clueless as fuck for a gay guy. The beers got you that bad?”

“Gay…” Dean swallowed and took a long drink from his beer before gathering up a response. “I’m not, actually.”

Immediately Nate’s face washed over with a confused look and frowning deeply, he seemed pensive for a while before continuing. “My gaydar is never wrong though so this is a first. From the moment I came here and sat down, I could pick you up. You sure about that?”

“Honestly, at this point I’m just…I just don’t know squat about my sexuality. What’s a gaydar?”

“It’s mostly intuition. I figure that even straight guys have it because they can instantly tell if another guy is gay to stay clear from them. But it’s worked for me for years now. And dude,” Nate rested a reassuring hand on Dean’s back, immediately providing a little warmth, “if you’re questioning your sexuality, then chances are that the straight life isn’t working out for you.”

“Did God send you here or something?” Dean’s tongue felt too loose and he started on his fifth beer with the intention of drowning away the sorrow. “I was hoping to talk to a guy who knows what it’s like to fall for another guy and you just dropped out of the roof.”

Nate buried his face into his folded arms and shook from laughter for a while. Then after returning to gazing at Dean, he shrugged. “Maybe so! Maybe so indeed. So, you’re saying you’ve got feelings for a guy and you have no idea what to do, huh? Well,” after receiving a nod, he pulled the beer away from Dean’s grasp, “first thing’s first. Don’t drink your pain away, man. Don’t ever do that because the shit makes you numb but the feelings come back hard after. I mean, the buzz is good for a couple hours, but I wouldn’t advise you to do it. Secondly, is this guy gay or is he straight?”

“He says he’s been in love with me for almost five years now.”

“Then what the fuck are you waiting on, dude?” Nate stared back in shock and after Dean shrugged, quite unsure of himself, he sighed. “You’re looking at me as if I’m talking another language.”

“No,” Dean shook his head as if clearing his thoughts and then he chuckled. “The buzz is kicking in. And to me it’s a new language because I’ve never been there or thought about it.”

“You don’t want to fuck him?” Nate’s question sounded rather unusual from a very innocent countenance and a boyish face. “What do you want from him then? Cuddles and kisses?”

“Too much to ask for?” Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling and glanced away, “call me old-fashioned but sex isn’t first priority for me. I mean, he’s good looking but my mind doesn’t go there as yet.”

Nate, as if entirely consumed by the actuality of another man lacking the thirst for sex, remained silent for a while. In that time, the bartender wiped down the counter with a red and white checkered cloth, flipped the channel to MTV and turned down two teenagers’ fake ID cards.

“You two known each other too long, that’s why, man. Sounds like you’ve grown so accustomed to him, that you take certain things for granted,” Nate said nodding, “but it’s good that you’re not going into this because of sex because then you’ll just become addicted to that. I like how you think though. You seem like a pretty deep dude. Here I was thinking that I could pick you up easy but I don’t think I stand a chance.”

“I’m just new to this and my mind is just…overwhelmed by him. I feel like he’s playing mind games with me because he’s been hanging out with this other woman and it’s just eating away at me.”

“The dude’s trying to make you jealous, bruh. After being in love with you for five years? I don’t think he’d just give you up. Can’t be that easy to get over you, especially with your looks,” Nate boldly checked Dean out, his blue eyes roaming up and down. “And besides, seems like him moving with this chick is getting him some good results. I say kiss him.”

“How though?” Dean groaned and stared at Miley Cyrus making love to a giant ball swinging on the screen and he realized that the song related to his woes. “How do you even know when it’s the right time to kiss a fucking guy?”

“It feels like the right time, man. You just know. Hey, look,” Nate tapped Dean’s right shoulder and pleaded with his gaze, “I don’t know you so well, and you’re going to think I’m fucking crazy to even suggest this. But to break the ice, and give you some boldness, I can let you kiss me. No, don’t look at me like that, man.”

“Not going to happen,” Dean shook his head and chuckled, sipping some beer as Miley Cyrus blurred on the screen “In case you haven’t been listening, you’re not my type.”

“Exactly, it would be nothing. I’d get to go home happy, knowing I got kissed by a dude like you. And after we leave here, when you return to your little city, we will never see each other again. Think of it as two strangers passing through. What you say?”

Dean slowly shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, man. Can’t do it.” The buzz was beautiful, causing all the lights to grow brighter and the sounds sharper and the comical look on Miley Cyrus face as she swung around in her panties was a little too much for him to avoid laughing at.

“The offer still stands,” Nate clapped him on his back before sliding off of the stool. “See you around.”

For a long time, Dean remained there and tried to carefully assess the other man’s intentions, clearly concluding that the whole matter was ridiculous and very suggestive. Most of all, falling prey to something like that would completely go against his character because he wasn’t the type of young man who divulged in reckless behavior. Even during his years as a teenager, he hardly experimented with drugs and chose to live under the radar whilst his brother more than likely dabbled in a few risks of his own.

But the bottom line still remained; that regardless of how he was feeling about Castiel, there was no way he could even consider kissing another man because the whole idea felt like cheating. And from the moment he discovered that the act fitted the label so comfortably without any doubts inside of his mind, Dean determined that he was far too gone instead of skimming on the surface.

If he could move from savoring Castiel’s touches to finding the kisses on his neck rather memorable, then obviously feeling like he would be unfaithful by kissing a stranger who was evidently sexy and honest; all of this suggested that Dean was really and truly thinking about being in a relationship with his older friend.

He couldn’t refrain from wondering about the destruction to his heart after Castiel mentioned that he was trying to get over him. Nor the dreadful feeling of losing him to someone else, someone who would prove to be a lovely wife and a most fortunate companion. And because he detested those things, Dean, still intoxicated and oozing words, pulled out his phone and drunk texted Castiel, something he never did in his entire life.

_Guess what. A guy is hitting on me and he’s good looking. He wants to kiss me. Can you imagine that? ME. You couldn't man up and do it. I’ve had too much to drink, think I lost count and Sam is gambling pools._

Resting his phone on his right thigh, Dean finished his fifth and realized that too many liquids quickly forced his bladder to groan under the weight. Therefore, rising up as the world tipped dangerously, he slowly sought out the washroom, passing Sam who immediately realized that his brother was severely intoxicated.

“Hey, man. We’re leaving after you’re done. You want help in there or you can make it on your own?”

“Screw you,” Dean held onto the doorframe and studied the two faces of Sam. “I’m not a lightweight.” Then entering the washroom, he slowly approached the urinal, chuckling to himself. “I could do twelve beers and it wouldn’t do nothing.” Dean smiled at the tiled green walls and studied the graffiti. “Well, good for you, Susie,” he said after reading _Susie gives good blowjobs_ scrawled four times before him in red lipstick. "Right now I'd like Cas to give me a…fucking blowjob."

After washing his hands and moving to the door though, he was certain that the world became a tank of blurred images. Never before did he ever experience that kind of high, and long after, Dean would attach the effects due to his almost empty stomach after eating just two pastries. But in that moment, when he was suddenly grabbed around the waist and pressed to the wall, he felt like he couldn’t even move his arms. He simply gave in to the swirling face of Nate and sunk into that out-of-body experience that was a little too euphoric and terribly dangerous.

The kiss though, Dean remembered the other man’s lips tasting his own barely, the burning hot sensation and the warm breath of air between them. The sense of his mind reaching for something and when Castiel’s face swum into view behind those closed green eyes, Dean instantly melted.

He was so certain of facing reality, of actually kissing the older man that his heart strained against his chest, eager to escape from the trauma but still he gave up his composure. His mind kept tugging him back like drawing a bow and still Dean encouraged the meeting of their lips. Slowly and then passionately until the two of them were exploring each other with their hands and then—

He was lying on his back, head resting on Sam’s lap. Sam’s face, red and angry above him. The swirling of lights outside the car window as the vehicle rocked. The slight urge to vomit and then Sam on the phone.

“I got him. We’re on our way back. Yeah,” the younger Winchester sighed, staring at him like he was a swelling mess of green goo. “He’s awake but completely out of it. Look, I don’t know, Cas! One minute I left him there with a beer and then in half an hour he practically drank more than six. No, Jesus, Cas.” Sam sighed, tossed his head onto the backseat and groaned. “I didn’t know he was so wrecked, okay? I thought he was a little out of it but I didn’t think he would try to drown away his pain. And you should talk, you’re as much to blame for all of this too. You’re the reason he hammered himself, man.”

“Cas?” Dean croaked, staring at Sam and he experienced a numbness that was beautiful inside his body. “Let me talk…to him,” he tried to lift his arms but failed. “Hey, fuck you, Sammy. I want to talk to my soul mate.”

Sighing, his brother shook his head and accepted defeat. “Look, he wants to talk to you. You okay with that?” After listening, the younger Winchester flatted the phone against his brother’s ear and then Dean finally managed to mobilize his arm enough to steady the cell.

“Hey babe,” was his first greeting, smiling at the lights dancing in front of his face and feeling like he was riding a carousel. “I miss you so much. It was so painful but now…” he chuckled, “I don’t feel a thing.”

“Dean,” Castiel sounded so far away, and his voice echoed as if they were speaking to each other inside a tank. “You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have…” the older man’s tone faltered, “Dean, how could you drink so much? You never drink.”

“Was trying to forget you like you’re trying to forget me, man. It’s working. I don’t feel the pain inside my chest no more. My heart’s not beating. I don’t think that it is but it’s good because it was fucked before.”

“We will talk about this when you’re sober—”

“No, I don’t want to. I drank because I needed to be like this to tell you the truth—”

“Dean, don’t,” Castiel sounded as if he was crying, the composure in his gravelly tone weakening, “I need you to be sober when you talk to me because at least your—”

"You need me to be a lot of things that I'm fucking up. Maybe you're better off without me in your life, right? I mean," Dean laughed up at Sam who frowned deeply, "I could crash my damn car or disappear and you'd still keep going. You'd still keep living without me because your life doesn't revolve around me…"

"Dean, please don't say such things to me," Castiel said weakly, "you are very important to me and this you are sure of. It might not seem like the truth at the moment, but believe me, it is. I would be lost without you."

"No, you wouldn't. I was dying for couple days now and you couldn't see it. You were busy fucking Hanna."

"No," Castiel croaked.

“The guy who was flirting with me,” Dean continued without awaiting more, wondering how the taxi’s backseat suddenly felt like he was in a limousine. He could still taste the beer and wondered why he could also smell all of it too. “He wanted to fuck me and—"

“Okay, that’s it,” Sam tried to tug the phone away but couldn’t because his brother’s grip was too firm. “Cas, put the phone down,” he leaned in and said loudly, “not cool to have him say these things when he’s high.”

“Fuck you, Sammy. Listen, Cas?”

“Yes?” Castiel said softly, his voice barely a whisper, “I’m here for as long as you want me to be but you need to relax. You need to--”

“The guy, he has blue eyes. Like yours,” Dean’s tongue felt like smooth velvet. “His name’s Nate he’s…younger and I told him about you. How I feel about you… how I’m so jealous you’re screwing Hanna. But you’re only doing it to get over me so I don’t think it’s wrong because at least she’s a…she and I’m a…he. She can make babies and I can’t and you want babies, right Cas? That’s one of many things I can’t give you. But I want to have your babies.”

Sam, hoping that the phone call ended, felt tears burn his eyes from his brother’s words because evidently Dean was containing so much inside of him that he didn’t reveal earlier through their conversation. He was obviously in love, head over heels and was now coming to terms with his feelings.

“I’m not screwing Hanna and I don’t want babies with anyone else but you, Dean,” Castiel said on the other end, which felt like a million miles to the other man because of the small sound of his friend’s voice.

“Of course, you do you want a perfect life with a wife and babies and a wedding with a bride and groom.” When there was no response but the soft sounds of his friend sniffing, Dean chuckled because the urge to do so was bubbling behind his throat. “Hey don’t cry or else I’ll cry, man.”

“I don’t want a wife,” Castiel said hoarsely, completely breaking down along with his voice, “I want you, Dean. I want…why am I even saying this? You clearly wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow. And maybe that’s a good thing because you will never want the same things I want. I don't want Hanna. I never did. When I mentioned distractions, I meant swaying my love away from you for a while because it is killing me that I cannot have you.”

“I want _you_ , Cas.”

“What does that even mean? Dean, don’t—” Castiel sounded like he was suffocating. “Please tell me what it means because I cannot live like this anymore. I cannot keep guessing what is it you want me to do with our lives.”

"I don't want to live anymore."

"Stop it."

"No you stop it. Stop…" Dean swallowed and his tongue felt like a slug, "…being a dick to me by treating me like a kid because I'm not small anymore." Barely, he opened his eyes to register that the car was no longer moving. “I think we’re here and Sam’s going to have to carry me upstairs.”

“Dean, you can’t leave me like this,” Castiel suddenly sounded like he was falling apart, “please don’t do this to me. I’m so worried about you right now because you’ve evidently chosen to drink which is something you never do. This is deeply affecting you and I know that it’s me. It’s us. And I want you to tell me what it is because I can’t sleep and I can’t eat and I’m—”

“Hey, Cas, you dick,” Sam said after collecting the phone and pushing open the door, but Dean waved his arm, trying to steal the mobile again. “I told you to hang up. Dammit, dude. You’re not supposed to do this. He’s fucked and he’s saying things that he shouldn’t be saying in this state.”

“I can’t, Sam,” Castiel said, and the younger man realized that his friend was crying and of all the years he was familiar with him on a deep level, he never ever prepared himself for the sound of the older man sobbing. "Evidently he needs me."

“Look,” Sam pressed the door shut and scowled at the trunk of the car as the wind whipped his hair, “Dean’s clearly not okay, man. He’s so wrecked that he came all the way here, away from you just to do some thinking. I’m not saying that you’re a bad person. I’m just going to tell you right now that waiting five freaking years before telling him the truth isn’t doing him any good. He’s flailing and he’s lost. And he wants to have that conversation with you but it’s not easy for him. He’s Dean, man. He doesn’t do these things well. He doesn’t talk about his damn feelings easily, and I can’t believe you, man. I get that you’re going through some shitty stuff too because of all of this, but you just confessed to my brother less than two weeks ago that you’re in love with him and then right after, you’re flaunting some other woman in his face? How the hell do you expect him to feel, Cas? You didn’t even give him time to process the damn information or to decide on how he feels about you. You just…I don’t know, decided that he doesn’t feel the same way. It’s not cool, man.”

The long silence on the other end of the line forced Sam to check his screen to determine if the call was still connected. It was and evidently Castiel was still fighting to respond. What made matters worse was that growing up, Castiel was always someone who he looked up to just like Dean, hoping to be told what to do. Every single time along the way, he was the younger one who tried to fit himself in between his brother and the older man, wondering if he would ever be as amazing as Castiel too, just as Dean worshipped him. And now that they were all grown up, terribly experienced and he wasn’t a kid anymore, Sam took his brother’s side regardless of that admiration for the older man.

But he could never disrespect him no matter how much the urge was there. After all, some day soon enough, Castiel could become his brother-in-law and no bad blood should exist between them.

“I’m sorry, man. Shouldn’t have gone off like that. I get that this isn’t easy for you either but at least you know how you feel already. Dean’s never been here before. And he’s struggling and you can’t even see it because he’s trying to hide it from you. I just wish the two of you could just talk, man. You used to talk about everything and now it’s like there’s this wall between the two of you that I don’t like at all.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said softly, his voice cracking as Sam tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and helped Dean out slowly. “I’m quite aware of that but I’ve done nothing but entertain a friend. And by using my friend as a distraction, I was willing to distance myself from Dean for a while.”

“Yeah, well newsflash, dude,” Sam pulled open the door, and was relieved when Dean’s composure held up enough so that he could climb the stairs on his own, “the distance thing isn’t working. Seems like he needs you more than ever now and you’re just not there. You’re more concerned about hanging with your friend when your best friend is barely hanging on, man. But hey, I’m not there for most of the time and I have no idea what’s going on. All I can tell you is that after talking to him tonight, you two need to sit down and talk. I’m going to drive him back Monday because he’ll need to work this hangover off tomorrow. And Cas?”

“Sam,” the older man returned in a weak voice, as if pleading for more information. “What is it?”

“Hang in there, buddy. You’ve got to trust me on this. Don’t try to forget him. Go take a sleeping pill and knock yourself out, get some rest and don’t worry about it. I’ve got him with me and he’s going to be fine. Just didn’t know he was so out of it tonight that he was willing to drink so much. But I’ve got him now.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel sniffed as the younger man opened the door to the apartment and Jess greeted them. Quickly he signaled to her that Dean had swallowed too many beers. “Can you do me a favor?”

“I’m doing you a lot of favors right now, dude. What’s up?”

“Make sure that he eats and he drinks lots of fluids. Also please ask him to call me tomorrow or text me. I need to hear from him. Can you do that for me?”

Sam fixed the pillow under Dean’s head as the older Winchester stretched out on the long sofa. “Sure thing. You get some rest. See you Monday.”

After the call ended, Jess was briefly updated as the two of them entertained a hushed conversation in the kitchen and after returning to the living room, they gazed at the sleeping form of Dean. Curled up in a comma, he seemed peaceful if not for the turmoil going on inside his head, evident to Sam who tucked the blanket around him after pulling off his shoes. Then because his older brother did the same thing for him when they were teenagers, Sam collected another blanket from his wife and settled into the other couch with a bucket nearby. He also rested a towel on the arm of the chair and a bottle of water, just in case Dean woke up with the urge to vomit.

At one in the afternoon the next day, he barely opened his eyes and wished that the world wasn’t so bright. The sky was too bright, the soft snowflakes outside the window were like bright little flecks of white and the ceiling fan threw him into an awful dizziness. He sat up groggily and stared into his nephew’s wide hazel eyes because apparently the toddler was capable of climbing and managed to plant himself on his uncle’s stomach.

“Hi buddy,” Dean’s throat ached terribly and he detested the wide-eyed scrutiny he was on the receiving end of. “Don’t judge me, okay? I know I’m screwing up. By the time you’re old enough to understand this, at least I hope that you’re openminded enough get it. Your uncle…is totally gay.”

“Not cool coming out to my son, man,” Sam’s towering figure beamed down at him. “Here,” he held out a bottle of water and ruffled the toddler’s soft brown hair. “Your boyfriend demanded that I make sure you eat and drink water.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean collected his namesake into his arms and sat up weakly, accepting the water. “Please tell me I didn’t talk to him last night. I keep hearing his voice but I’m not sure what the hell happened.”

Sam seemed pretty impressed as he perched on the arm of the sofa, arms folded. “So, you’re one of those drunks that don’t remember shit the day after. Huh.” When his brother stared at him, he chuckled. “You said a few things. Don’t worry though. I stopped the conversation in the right time. Actually gave the dude a piece of my mind, man.”

“What did I say to him?” Dean studied his nephew wrapping tiny fingers around his pinky. “Anything that I should prepare myself to apologize for?”

“You told the guy that you’re glad he’s screwing Hanna because at least she can make his babies and you can’t.” Sam snorted after his brother stared back in bewilderment and almost choked on sipping some water. “Also, you told him about Nate. Do you remember anything about that douche though?”

The faint taste of someone’s lips and beer peppered his memory, as if a puzzle was fitting together. “Tell me that he and I didn’t…”

“Dude, I found the two of you all over each other in the washroom right after Cas called me, trying to wreck my eardrums. Apparently, you drunk texted Cas and told him that you’re high. And yeah, man, you were so wasted.”

Leaning back and closing his eyes, Dean instantly felt as if his entire world was turned upside down and there was no way to recover from his bad mistake. Evidently it was the most horrible one thus far, all he could remember was having a conversation with Nate and then becoming aware that something made him uncomfortable enough to drift away. Afterwards, the washroom scene was a blur, but clearly it all happened and threatened to damage his already shaky sanity.

“Between you and me, I don’t think you should tell Cas what happened. Leave it with him knowing that some random dude flirted with you,” Sam suggested, eyeing the twins dragging out a large teddy bear onto the carpet in front of the television. “Cas doesn’t need to know right now that another guy kissed you. That sort of thing would wreck him. You hungry?”

“Right now, I could drink a tank of water. What you got?” Dean lifted the toddler into the air and the small giggles weakened his heart.

“Jess made soup for you. She’s gone for the day. Hanging with her brother who’s back in the country. She would have stayed but figured that you’d be knocked out for more than half the day so…”

“I’m so ashamed of what she probably thinks of me after what happened.” Dean slowly got up and handed his nephew over, then he dragged his feet towards the kitchen as the lights continued to brighten and a bitter coldness seeped through his bones.

“I think Jess has seen me go through the same thing more than enough times so it’s not new to her. Plus, she knows that you’ve never done this before so…”

After scooping out some soup from the pot and drooling from the tasty scents, Dean seated himself next to the small table that overlooked a slice of Manhattan. From there, he studied the difference in the town compared to Littleton and wondered if the city ever slept.

Sam, on the other hand, busied himself with his kids, taking on the father role perfectly and every so often, he glanced at his brother who gazed out the window constantly.

His thoughts rested on the night prior for a long time, wondering why he actually fell prey to the belief of drowning one’s sorrows in one beer after the other. It was so unbecoming of him to act so recklessly, to drunk text Castiel and afterwards, accuse the older man of sleeping with Hanna. But wasn’t that his suspicions all the way to New York? Wasn’t he of the impression that Castiel was using Hanna as a rebound? It was then when Dean remembered that his friend actually voiced the truth to him prior to his consumption of alcohol.

Dean pulled out his phone and opened WhatsApp, and when he read the last messages over and over again, tears burned his eyes.

_What????_

_Which guy, Dean?_

_Where is Sam? Is he with you?_

_Dean? Are you there? Please answer me._

Obviously, those messages were sent right after he drunk texted, but the ones that followed afterwards were a little too truthful and painful for Dean to swallow his soup successfully. And after reading those, he gazed out of the window, back to the living room and softly cried.

_12:01am – Dean, I’m sitting here with a glass of whisky and I can’t sleep. I’ve been crying since we last spoke to each other. I’m sorry to message you in this state and I’m aware that you’re sleeping, but there is no one else to turn to. When I said that I’m trying to forget you, I meant that I’m trying to forget the ways that I think of you. When I think of you, I think of so many things that are superficial and unattainable at this moment. And I need to forget those dreams that I have about you._

_12:30am – I can’t stop thinking of you. I’ve been doing this for years and it’s not easy. I’m possibly high because the hearth is taking on the shapes of very angry fiery snakes. Do you dream of me? I dream about you every night. I keep having this one recurring dream that I’m standing at an altar right behind the estate and I feel so overwhelmed as you walk down the aisle towards me. I’ve been having this dream for a very long time now._

_1:04am – Definitely tipsy. I will sleep late tomorrow. Did you entertain the other man’s flirting? Did you flirt back? What did he say to you? I’m very jealous and I hate him. I hate anyone who looks at you like they adore and love you because they cannot love you as much as I love you. I love you completely, your brilliant mind, your playful soul and your beautiful body._

_1:09am – Why did I ever see that photo you took revealing your chest? I should not have seen that. It does not stop me from thinking of you without clothes._

_1:10am – I shouldn’t have said that. Badly done, Castiel._

_1:30am - Dean, please come back to me. I need to see you and hug you. Why does everyone become so fortunate to fall in love and have those feelings returned and I can never have you? Am I being cursed for what happened with my ex-wife? Is this punishment for Claire? I cannot keep living like this. It hurts too much and I need you so much more than you will ever understand. Please call me as soon as you wake up. I need to hear your voice._

_1:31am – Dean, please don't forget that I'm in love with you._

_1:34am – And I'm not in love with Hanna. I don't want a woman. I want only one person who isn't a woman. He's the most amazing man I've ever known and he's completely misunderstanding me. I wish that I could rewind time and I could have kissed you that night we sat on the porch at Ellen's house. Then you wouldn't be so doubtful, because I'd prove to you how much you mean to me._

_1:38am – I've been told I'm a great kisser, Dean. I'm not familiar with the rest._

_1:40am – Are you in love with me? Is that what you meant by the truth? Dean! Wake up, I need to know now. I will drive all the way to New York if you fail to answer me. We need to have this conversation._

_2:04am – Dean, I can’t delete the messages._

Wiping his eyes slowly and carefully concealing his weakened composure from his brother, Dean splayed out his fingers and watched as they trembled. And he couldn’t shake the feeling of completely becoming lost in the messages, of rereading them over and over again and hanging onto every word as if it was dependent on his heart beating and his lungs taking in air. All of those words were beautiful to him, so open and honest and welcoming that never before did he realize how much it destroyed Castiel to fall in love with him.

After walking like a zombie into the kitchen, he washed up his bowl and then returned to the living room. From there, it ached Dean so much to leave the words hanging between them so he gestured towards the washroom, mouthing a name that Sam understood all too well what the intentions were.

Pulling down the toilet seat, Dean sat on the soft cover and inhaled the fresh scent of lavender. And after debating on whether he should call or send a voice note, he decided on the former because Castiel might not know how to play the note at all. He would probably become too frustrated from looking at a long strip that made no sense to him and then the phone would be tossed onto the wall and broken into pieces.

After four rings, he was about to accept defeat when the line connected.

“Balth here,” came Castiel’s brother’s cheerful tone. “Your angel is still slumbering. It appears as if he didn’t sleep until five this morning after I got up and found him on the sofa.”

“Dammit,” Dean instantly felt severely wounded. “I was just calling to check on him.”

“You mean after you left town and didn’t tell him?” Balthazar wasn’t privy to last night’s drama. “Cas went into panic mode after coming back home. He thought you left for good. I had to remind him that you wouldn’t be so heartless to leave him like this.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll call him later. If not, I’m heading back tomorrow, so I should be there by dinner. Please take care of him for me.”

“Don’t I always?”

After the call ended, Dean sighed and throughout the day, he couldn’t stop checking his WhatsApp until deciding upon sending a message which would signal to him when Castiel was online and would have read his words. But he struggled a long time whilst composing the message, deleting then typing, deleting again and second-thinking the words over and over again. Until he decided to just jump right in and leave the line as brief as possible until they could expound further.

_Hi. I’m sorry about last night. I called earlier to talk to you but you were still sleeping. Please text or call me when you wake up._

When Jess returned home, she brought her mother along with an armful of bags because evidently, Sam’s visit to Littleton would leave her with the absence of two arms. The kids were already a handful and the decision to move her mother in for at least two days was best, considering that the baby barely slept a wink at nights. And thus, after the four of them sat down to dinner and Dean’s mind relaxed a little from the good company, he still kept checking his phone.

It wasn’t until he tucked in for a short nap before hitting the road when the mobile chirped and fishing it out of his pocket instantly, Dean opened the message and stared at the voice note for a long time.

So, evidently the older man was tech savvy enough to figure out how the feature worked. And after pressing play, Dean tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and began to listen to the words that lasted for a full minute.

“I haven’t overslept in many years and thanks to you, I managed eleven hours,” Castiel sounded groggy and warm like a teddy bear though. “I do apologize for all the intoxicated messages that shouldn’t have been sent at all. Mind you, collecting the bottle of whisky from my brother’s cabinet wasn’t the brightest idea. Dean,” Castiel sighed and paused a few seconds before continuing, “I am so worried right now that you will stop entertaining my friendship after what has happened. Please give me another chance if you are mortified by my openness. I cannot lose you because I will lose all of my heart.”

Replaying the note again, Dean studied the twins fixing the puzzle of Pocahontas and he buried his face into the blanket so that they wouldn’t notice his tears.

He must have played the voice note four times before approaching a response and after realizing that his voice was too hoarse from softly crying, he still managed to send one anyway.

“Cas, I’m glad you said the things you did,” Dean tried in a hushed voice under the blanket as the twins giggled and tossed puzzle pieces at each other, “I don’t want us to start over. And yeah, I’m nervous too. I don’t know what will happen when we meet tomorrow because since I left, things have changed so much between us. But I want you to know that you’re not going to lose me at all. I liked your messages. Didn’t know you could send voice notes, you adorable idiot. Would save us a lot of time typing.”

After receiving the voice note, Castiel sent three emojis too; a heart, a teddy bear and kiss.

Dean softened so much inside until the next message followed:

_I am very familiar with these things. Thanks to Charlie. She’s quite a great teacher. Please be safe on your way back. What are you doing right now?_

Dean sighed and decided to send a voice note because he was too tired to type. “I’m about to try to take a nap before Sam and I hit the road. The twins are fixing a two hundred piece puzzle that’s making progress pretty fast. What are you up to?”

_A bit of reading. I’ve returned to Sherlock Holmes because Charlie keeps calling me the WATSON TO YOUR SHERLOCK. And I must say that returning to Arthur Doyle is quite refreshing and a distraction. But I keep seeing your face whenever I read about Sherlock. Dammit, Charlie!_

Smiling at his young friend’s reference, Dean shook his head and was thankful that she still comforted Castiel when he wasn’t there.

_Well, I’d make a handsome Sherlock, no doubt about that. So, stop blushing, Watson. You’re too adorable when you blush. Now I need to sleep because I can’t wait to see you and I’m going to be nervous all day tomorrow because of it. Do you think that you will sleep tonight?_

Castiel’s next reply was a voice note and after listening to it, when the words curled his toes, Dean sunk under his blanket.

“I can’t wait to see you too, dearest Dean,” Castiel’s voice dipped lower and sounded softer as he chuckled, “I’ll be counting the hours until you come back. Will I be able to sleep? Possibly yes because at least I know now that you’re not terribly scorned by what I’ve said to you prior and you’re anxious to see me again. This is good. Sweet dreams, my love.”

Dean’s only reply was two kiss emojis and a blushing one and then he locked his phone and snuggled into the warmth until sleep covered him softly.

_My love…_

_My love…_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of messages I received last night, begging for me to post this chapter, I'm still reeling by how many of you are reading this story, even some of my own friends who have been silent for a while now!
> 
> Thank you so much readers, thank you for joining this journey and for loving this story and I cannot express how much your feedback makes me happy. There are times when I just NEED to hear something from you because I just want to know that someone is enjoying the story.
> 
> I've put so much into this fanfiction, many hours, staying up late after 3 in the morning, sneaking in some writing during work, skipping reading, working on the plot and ideas during family time and I'm glad it's paying off.

**Excerpt:**

_Castiel gasped when Dean suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him in closer. But the younger man’s intention was to initiate a hug, to close the distance between them. Immediately though, the passion intensified and desperately, their lips danced nearer, their eyelashes fluttering, warm breath kissing each other’s faces. And because Castiel was so unprepared for the returned feelings that finally signaled how deeply Dean was attracted to him, he couldn’t catch his breath._

* * *

The car ride back to Littleton was consumed with plenty of bromance, enough time for the two of them to catch up and the perfect opportunity for Sam to vent a lot on his discomforts back in Manhattan.

After one hour of laying his problems on the table, ranging from Jess’s mother proving to be a terrible critic on their lives to their demanding jobs and studies and balancing kids in between, Dean was of the impression that married life couldn’t always be peaches and roses. In fact, it appeared as if Sam’s face was becoming a little too creased from the abundance of stress because he was actually trying to balance a law degree along with a family. Now that wouldn’t have been so bad if Dean could honestly lend a helping hand in some way, but being so far away from each other, there was no way any assistance could be provided.

Therefore, his brother was left with the burden of three children at a very crucial stage in their lives where they needed nurturing, and a father and mother who were neck deep in studies, cases and research papers to manage more than three hours sleep.

All of the problems thus far as Sam provided to his brother were things that Dean could not begin to imagine the weight on someone’s mental state because in comparison, he was quite contented and weightless from those responsibilities. As the older brother, Dean felt somewhat belittled as a late bloomer in the areas Sam matured into, and he wondered when he would ever become so invested in a family of his own or sharing a space with…

When he pondered along the lines of marriage or children or generally a future, Dean’s mind was always consumed with Castiel. He could be listening to Sam lament on the kids’ refusal to pick up their toys after using them and instantly imagine Castiel scooping up a laughing girl and turning to smile at him. Or he would wonder about which side of the bed Castiel slept on because Sam complained about Jess invading his corner. Or when Jess always requested Sam to grab the groceries, Dean wondered what shopping with Castiel would be like. And because his mind comfortably dwelled on these domesticated thoughts, forever spinning other scenarios, he couldn’t deny what he most desired in life.

When Sam manned the wheel and he comfortably stretched out in the backseat, exhausted from driving for three hours after they departed New York, Dean tugged out his phone and opened WhatsApp.

_Three hours more, Cas. How are you?_

It wasn’t until the two of them ran into engine problems and stalled at a gas station, when he groaned from the four hours delay. And after he and Sam sat down to munch on beef jerky and slices of pies, the afternoon welcomed them on a highway bordered by snow.

The coldness bit into Dean’s bones, seeping into three layers of thick clothing like cold hands reaching around him in an embrace. And because the bitterness crept into his brain and numbed his nerves, Dean latched onto something that would provide him with an abundance of warmth, two things actually; cups of hot coffee and scrolling through the messages Castiel sent him whilst he was drowning in whisky. But not after replying to the last message from the older man, that worried him immensely.

_Very bad day, Dean. Terrible migraine that brought on nausea. Cannot work. In bed. Not a hangover._

Dean frowned and the comforting smile slipped away from his face after laughing from a joke Sam was sharing about the twins.

_Damn. Not cool at all. Sounds like the flu._

“I mean, it’s like Mary, unlike Marlene, kept trying to fit the ball inside the square and no matter how many times I explained to her why it wouldn’t work,” Sam said chuckling and chewing on some pie, “she still kept doing it. Pissed Jess off.”

“Maybe she’s trying to make the impossible possible,” Dean shrugged as the two blue ticks appeared and Castiel typed. The wind whipped around them and numbed his cheeks and not even the warm beverage could chase away the bitterness in the air. “I remember you used to take two triangle blocks and make it into a square just to show off on me.”

_It’s withdrawal symptoms, Dean._

“And you used to stare back at me and tell me that it’s only because I’m cute, that’s why you’re going to let me get away with it,” Sam’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, hazel eyes focused on a truck lumbering down the highway. The snow drifted lightly onto the world around them and the ground beneath their shoes rumbled from the heavy weight.

_From what, Cas? The whisky?_

“You know, maybe Jess is just trying with her mother, as best as she can,” Sam said softly, glancing at Dean and receiving a shrug, “I can tell when Amy’s around that she’s agitated. Jess, I mean. She gets grumpy and maybe it’s because she doesn’t like her mother coming into our lives and trying to move everything around. Or trying to tell us what to do with the twins.”

_From you, Dean. I want you so much._

Dean stared at the message and stopped breathing as a fire ignited inside of his chest immediately burning away the coldness from the snow. There were times that miracles happened, small ones that signified so much energy aligned to just make the incredible happen and when he reread the words and understood how love could actually initiate a sense of so much warmth, he accepted defeat. After all these years, Dean honestly believed that love was a fickle feeling that created delusions and brought about nothing of substantial goodness except for now.

“Man, are you even listening to me?” Sam nudged his shoulder and finally managed to glance at the screen. “Dude, you get to spend less time with me compared to Cas. You’re going to see him in less than three hours. At least let’s catch up like old times. Does dad ever talk about me?”

Sighing, Dean wished more than ever that he could be curled up under a blanket, toes tucked into socks and with as much time available to guiltily keep messaging Castiel. If he could achieve all of that and surrender to everything, then he possibly could also reveal so much through their communications such as subtle flirting that came naturally all of a sudden between them.

But Sam was absolutely honest and after the two of them hardly managed to find themselves in each other’s confidence to have discussions like those, Dean focused more of his attention on his brother but just enough on his phone, checking the screen after the conversation would die down between them.

_Cas. I just want you to feel better. I don’t want to be the reason why you’re not._

“Most times he does,” he said softly to his brother, phone dangling between his legs, “dad’s more focused on his job than anything else but when he starts talking about you, it’s just nice things. I find that when you’re around, then the parts about you moving away come up. But when you’re not there, he just really misses you.”

Sam sighed and head bent, his dark hair fell like a curtain around his face. “I miss you guys too. Every single day I just feel like a huge chunk of me is missing. I mean, sure I got four people who mean the world but you’re my brother and he’s my father. And even though he always used to bicker with me, I still miss that kind of stuff.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I just go into your room and remember when we used to put up that tent in there and sleep inside.” Dean chuckled and felt his phone vibrate but he couldn’t check as yet because reminiscing was a little too humorous and deserving.

“You remember that one-time Cas scared the shit out of us?” Sam handed over the container holding his half-eaten blueberry pie and Dean accepted willingly. “I think I was like five and you were nine. The two of us were telling ghost stories and the lights starting blinking on and off and then we saw someone crawling towards us under a white sheet. And you!” Sam leaned back and laughed as Dean snorted, his cheeks coloring from various emotions, “you pushed me behind you and picked up the flashlight and started to whack him with it. And then Cas…” the younger Winchester dabbed at his eyes, “Cas just lunged at you and started tickling both of us.”

“Such an adorable idiot,” Dean laughed for a long time until he suddenly became engulfed in a heated wave of doubt and fear from uncertainty. “He’s such a…” So much confusing thoughts, he felt like the waves were rolling over and drowning him so fast…When he began to softly cry, there was nothing but a sense of weakness and a loss for words.

Immediately Sam stared back because the sudden break in their conversation couldn’t be ignored, “hey,” and pulling his brother into a warm hug, he simply held him snugly whilst soft sobs terrified him but was evidently originating from all the pent-up emotions just bursting out of Dean’s body. “Let it all out. Just…don’t try to keep it in, okay? What’s going on inside your head? Talk to me, man.”

“I just don’t know, Sam,” Dean croaked, feeling his phone vibrating again. “What if he…what if I tell him how I feel and we do this and then I’m not what he wants? What if I’m not enough or…or I don’t know what to do? Because there are a ton of stuff I don’t know how the hell to do. I don’t know how to… _be_ with a guy.”

“Dude, this isn’t just _any_ guy we’re talking about. This is Cas. Look, I’ll be honest with you,” Sam shifted a little to face his brother, their eyes connecting as Dean dabbed at wet cheeks. “You should take this one step at a time and don’t jump ahead. As things happen, you let it happen and then move onto the next but don’t ever forget to enjoy what’s going to happen between you two. These days when you’re just hanging there, waiting to finally talk about how you feel and just before it all comes down to a kiss, these days are the days you’re going to remember forever. You got to hang onto those moments. And Dean,” Sam took his brother’s shoulder and squeezed, “believe me, you’ll know what to do when the time comes. Doesn’t matter if it’s another guy. Kissing and everything else? It'll just happen because you’ll become so lost in how much you love him, that nothing else will matter.”

After he couldn’t respond but desperately needed to return enough gratitude, Dean simply rested his head upon Sam’s shoulder and was welcomed into an embrace. Like old times, whenever either of them felt pushed to the brink of emotional stress, the other would comfort and provide motivation. And even though this particular situation extended outside of Sam’s comfort zone, it didn’t mean that he was willing to refrain from consoling as best as he could manage.

“When we get back there, we’ll make it for dinner,” Sam said softly, as Dean unlocked his mobile and evidently was not affected by his messages being read by his brother. “He’s going to be there so as much as I don’t want to, I’m going to fangirl over the two of you.”

“Don’t think he’ll be there,” Dean said, appearing downcast and reading the last two messages, “he’s not feeling well.”

_Hurry back, it’s too cold here._

_Do you mind if I take Hanna over for dinner? She’s alone and I’d hate to leave her in the house all by herself._

“Type back, of course you mind,” Sam contributed, as his brother’s thumbs stalled over the message box. “Tell him you don’t want her there because it would be rather uncomfortable after you start playing footsies under the table.”

_Dean?_

“No, it’s fine,” Dean recorded a voice note, evidently regretting the decision because his voice was too husky from crying. “It’s not my call. Dad would love the extra company and you’re more than family and she’s your friend. So, go ahead. It’s not like we’re a couple,” he laughed nervously and then after realizing the mistake of using such a reference, he swallowed hard and stared at the voice note that was already sent successfully and read. “Fuck,” he said, growing tense immediately as the guys waved them over evidently signaling that the Impala was fixed and ready to go.

“You’re just making this harder, man,” Sam unfolded himself and stretched, offering a sympathetic look. “The guy’s going to think you’re not interested and then he’s going to be mad when you finally tell him that you’d like to blow him.”

So much for holding back on the sexual references and the teasing from his brother, which would intensify if the relationship kicked off. _If_ it did. Could he honestly gather up the composure to come right out and confess his feelings? It shouldn’t be so difficult to attain after divulging the same bit of news to Ellen, Sam and even a stranger at a bar thus far. Then again, they weren’t the object of his affections and to face the very person he was absolutely in love with and express the depth of his heart’s desires; that would be sufficient enough to constipate him on the spot.

After watching his brother waltz off towards the Impala to gear her up for the road though, Dean awaited the response from the older man and his mind weighed down heavily after the voice note appeared.

“Of course, we aren’t a…couple,” Castiel’s voice sounded strained and terribly wounded. “I just….” When the words died down and the note kept playing, the only tragedy that wrecked Dean was his selfishness to prolong the agony. “I hate myself. Everything about me…because if I was a woman and younger then I’d stand a better chance. Clearly you…don’t want me because I’m…me. And I…I’m just a friend.”

When the voice note ended, Dean sucked it up, could literally feel his heart holding on a beat, lungs screaming for air and after holding down the mic icon, he just really and truly began to expel as much as he could.

“I don’t want you to change, Cas,” he croaked whilst walking towards the car and growing colder after every step as nervousness settled like a net around him, “I want you just the way you are, okay? I’d rather have you more than anyone else in my life. And we’re not friends,” his eyes leaked as he pulled open the car door and stalled just enough to breathe in a little, “you’re more than that to me…” Dean clung onto the roof of the car without getting in and stared at the highway, “I can’t…fucking… _breathe_ without you. I can’t stop thinking about you every…damn second my mind is _consumed_ by you. Cas, you’re driving me crazy because there are so many things I’m feeling and I don’t know what to do or say. I just don’t know what this is going to do to us but all I know is that—”

After realizing that adrenaline was pumping and there was no turning back, he rested his thumb on the button again. "I'm falling in love with you, huggy bear," Dean said softly, tears clouding his eyes. "Sweetheart, darling. I'm falling so hard for you that it's happening so fast and I can't even catch my breath. In your words…I am _completely_ in love with you."

He stared at the voice note as the time ran out and swore and after settling into the backseat, Dean watched in dread as the two blue ticks appeared and for a very long time there was no response. Castiel obviously was too terrified by the truth to even gather composure to respond and maybe he shouldn’t have done such a thing. No typing, no recording of a voice note, nothing.

Maybe he should have waited and allowed the conversation to happen when they were face to face, but honestly, Dean didn’t believe that he could _have_ that conversation. He couldn’t stand in front of Castiel and confess what he was feeling and the magnitude of those emotions raging inside of him because then the tears would come forth and his hands would start shaking and he would mess the speech up too much afterwards. And wouldn’t _that_ be a tragedy by stumbling on the words to describe exactly what was happening to him?

When Castiel’s status drifted to LAST SEEN and the silence between them settled into a tension that burned Dean like sitting next to a bonfire, he couldn’t prevent the tears from flowing. He cried because he was capable of doing a lot of that recently, breaking down and dying inside from the changes, one moment the beautiful pangs of love covered him in happiness and then in the next, the worst kind of hurt was felt from never being certain of the path to take. The future seemed so vague at that point, because he knew not what to expect and because he was so fatigued from becoming clueless after experience love in such an intense fashion for the first time, the tears came abundantly.

“You okay back there?” Sam glanced behind him and then back at the road ahead as the wipers pushed snowflakes aside and revealed a pale orange sunset.

“I told him,” Dean said softly from the backseat, exiting WhatsApp and bringing up his Taylor Swift playlist.

His brother nodded slowly and swallowed, clearly too awed by the sudden decision to jump ahead. “Shouldn’t have done it until you got there but fine. Not too bad since it’s been eating away at you. Only thing is, now it’ll be harder for you to face him.”

“I just don’t want to talk right now,” Dean rolled over on his side and faced the back of the seat, the smooth leather soft to the touch but cold and uncomfortable against his forehead. “Plugging up my ears. Don’t bother me until we get there.”

“No problem, you take as much time as you need.” After turning up the heater, Sam turned the radio low and drove the rest of the three hours down a highway worrying about his brother’s mental state and what he could do to ease the tension once they reached to Littleton.

In the span of those hours though, not once did Castiel respond and even though Dean was a little too fatigued after an hour to wait for another message, the burden was too heavy to carry. Therefore, his only escape resided in between the words of Taylor Swift’s songs and although ACDC could have done wonders to contain the hurricane of pain inside his chest, the soft love songs enveloped him in a euphoric feeling.

After deciding that he was far too much in love at that point to fight in denial, Dean started a playlist that was a little too immature the more he considered it, but completely worthy of everything he was feeling for the older man. Listening to every song again and again, he became more aware of how the lyrics could become so much more hurtful and filled with an abundance of emotion when there actually was someone to relate them to. And as Sam drove into the yard at fifteen minutes to seven, the only thing Dean could ponder on was how much pressure his heart weighed under as the beats felt heavy and slow and painful like a ball was about to drop.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” was John’s cheerful words after greeting his youngest son by the door. The two of them hugged, one man towering over the other, “Dean, you still look awful,” this was delivered to the owner of green eyes that were a little too reddened from crying. “I have to tell you, Cas doesn’t look so good either from you two being apart. He’s lacking conversation tonight.”

“Anyone else here?” Sam rubbed his hands together to generate some warmth as the snowflakes fell lightly onto Littleton after much anticipation.

“Just the _lovely_ young lady who Cas brought along. Between you and me,” John tugged a haggard looking Dean closer and whispered, “I don’t like her at all except out of respect for her company because she is after all Cas’ friend.”

The three of them entered the hall and even though Sam proceeded to lead the way, his brother lingered behind. The red scarf wrapped around his neck wasn’t providing any kind of comfort because he was suffocating already. In addition to that, the maroon sweater felt rather much stuffy and itchy all of a sudden and Dean’s only desire was to slip under a warm shower.

From the moment he entered the living room and highlighted Castiel standing by the window, dressed in a blue wool sweater and khaki pants, something inside of him just opened up like a flower in bloom. Possibly it was his heart, unfolding into a glorifying awe after realizing that the distinct color brought out the shade of the older man’s blue eyes. But mostly it was his mind that sighed from trying to wade through doubts and fears and finally settling on a bright beam that highlighted the only definite answer to all the questions.

He was _definitely_ in love.

The two of them immediately locked a gaze that was far too deep and intense to remain unnoticed by everyone else in the room, even Hanna. Castiel couldn’t contain his surprise, immediately blinking slowly, lips parted when he finally discovered that they were in the same room after so much emotional drama. And because Dean was weakened in the knees and consumed by an awakening of butterflies that explored his lungs and overwhelmed such limited space, he couldn’t breathe.

“Dean,” Castiel said in his gravelly voice that was too light and breathless and he offered a stiff smile that suggested an abundance of strain from containing his true feelings.

“Hi,” was all he could manage, standing alone as Sam wandered over to the table and picked up a grape. Plucking it into his mouth, the younger Winchester glanced at his brother and winked, as if sending him the best of luck in all his endeavors.

John stood in the middle of the room, sipping on what appeared to be apple cider in a glass and Hanna slowly drifted towards the table, introducing herself to Sam. Immediately the two of them struck up a conversation and listening to the contentment from across the room, after John raised his eyebrows at Dean, he joined his youngest son and the lady who was the owner of a warm smile..

The distance between them felt so wide and thick with tension, that when Castiel finally approached Dean who remained by the telephone just near the wall, a large amount of weight lifted from the younger man’s chest. But it wasn’t in any way contributing to the nervousness felt on both sides, obviously reflected by the gathering tears in their eyes that glistened in the light of the lamp resting upon a table.

“Did you sleep?” the older man asked softly, leaving a considerable amount of space between them. “Your eyes are red. Why are your…” then he happened upon the truth and widened his own blue ones. “Were you crying? Why?”

Dean shook his head and lowered his gaze to the carpeted floor. “It’s uh…" he cleared his throat, "it's too much?”

"Am I too much for you? Is that it?" Castiel frowned deeply and his voice cracked.

"No, you're not…"

"Then what is?"

"I feel so…overwhelmed?" trying to breathe and realizing that his lungs didn't comply, Dean stared into blue eyes. "I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I but if you let me, we'll both figure out how to make this work," drawing close so that their faces were inches apart, Castiel couldn't really restrain himself. "Dean…"

Lips parted, their heads danced closer together until chest heaving, Dean blinked rapidly before stepping back. Because the pull…it was _there_ so suddenly when it never was before, so quickly too. What felt like a moment which was meant to happen was interrupted by his own brain screaming that he couldn’t do it and Dean panicked.

"What is it?" the older man whispered, tilting his head and appearing terribly washed over by emotions. "I'm scaring you, aren't I? I'm doing this all wrong and you're slowly beginning to realize that I'm a horrible person—"

"You're not a horrible person, okay?" Dean's face contorted as he fought the urge to cry. "You're the most amazing person in my life."

"I don't like the tension between us…"

"Neither do I…"

Slowly, Castiel reached for his right hand but then he pulled back after second thinking the bold gesture. It was enough to force the two of them to divert their gaze, and as the absence of words remained like ice between them after revealing so much before, there was nothing left to do but stand in each other’s company.

But it wasn’t comfortable at all because Dean still felt unworthy and completely foolish for what he did in New York and what he exposed, that he decided upon a very easy alternative.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said hoarsely, using the heels of his palm to scrub sore eyes. “Um…you guys…go on without me. Enjoy.”

“What,” Castiel said softly, utterly confused and then he stepped so close to Dean that their shoulders brushed. And in that moment, because they were so sensitive to each other’s touch, their faces danced nearer again as if trying to drown in the warm air between them. “Don’t you dare go up to your room and fail to return, or else I’ll come looking for you.”

“My head’s killing me right now,” Dean said stubbornly, his voice cracking as he barely gestured at the small party gathered and stared at the older man's lips, “you’ve got good company—Sam, Hanna, dad…"

“Dean, don’t do this,” Castiel pleaded, leaning in and completely washing Dean over in so much desire to just reach in and kiss him “After what I’ve told you… through my messages…that I’ve been dying without you…do you honestly believe that anyone else’s company would do?”

“No…” slightly stubborn as always, green eyes lowered.

“Then you must stay with me. Why do you wish to go away?” Castiel’s voice broke as tears stuck to his eyelashes. “Must you torture me like this until I have no sanity left?”

“Cas, it’s not like that,” Dean severely avoided the older man’s intense gaze, “I’m not trying to do anything to you. I’m…” trembling from a painful sob, he separated himself although Castiel reached for him in a haste, and he sought out the staircase.

From there, he jogged up weakly, shoes padding on the carpeted steps, the tears flowing still and when he pushed into his bedroom, Dean rushed in and peeled off his clothes. He barely managed to scrutinize his bedroom, deciding that nothing would have changed anyway from his absence and then rushing to the bathroom, the mirror was sought out. And when he discovered how red his eyes were from crying, sore to the touch, he understood why the intensity in Castiel’s gaze was so prolonged.

After standing under a warm shower and trying to mend the bruises that leaked from the pain and the negativity, he finally emerged with a somewhat clearer head than before. Centered a little but not too much and somewhat relieved that the snow was packed away outside and his pores felt refreshed, he tossed his duffel bag onto the floor to make room on the bed. And it was only then when he noticed the package wrapped in a red bow resting on his bedside table with a small yellow card attached.

Picking the mysterious gift up, Dean immediately recognized Castiel’s familiar neat handwriting on the small card and his heart melted from the gesture.

**Dean,**

**Can you wear this to dinner?**

**It will be our own secret.**

**I’ve missed you so much.**

**Two days felt like a year without rain.**

**Love,**

**Cas.**

The green sweater, the exact shade of his eyes was so soft and smooth and beautiful, after Dean slipped it on, the material felt like a very warm embrace, almost as if Castiel was wrapping him in his arms. That was something that he craved so much, that every step Dean took down the stairs, bringing him closer to the older man, he could feel the difference between them.

The absence of that lightness and playfulness and days when he could simply join in on jokes and teasing with an abundance of smiles. The days when they could just look at each other and laugh and occupy the window seat. The conversations that came easy and the lack of tears; all of those things were replaced by so much more now when he locked eyes with Castiel.

There was so much chemistry felt between them that Dean’s hands suddenly ached to touch him, to boldly reach out and caress those soft disheveled tendrils. He wanted to stop peeling back the layers of Castiel’s clothes but he couldn’t and for the first time in forever, Dean’s eyes roamed the other man boldly as he stalled at the bottom of the steps. Thank goodness Sam, Hanna and his father were all engaged in a game of Scrabble or they would have noticed the bold sweep of his eyes. The inner desire swelling up inside of him to wrap Castiel into a hug and allow his sense of touch to ascertain what the older man felt like in certain places.

For instance, his tailored pants…his eyes rested there for the first time in possibly forever with another intention in mind; to seek out whatever could be ascertained and allow his mind to wander. Most definitely, Castiel was packing as others highlighted before, being his brother and Charlie. But he wasn't prepared for the thoughts that centered inside his mind. The desperate need to unzip the older man's pants and examine him, literally feeling wisps of pleasure climb up into his own gut so quickly. And when he finally managed to deliver his obvious interest, the response was instant.

Castiel, realizing that he was on the receiving end of an abundance of scrutiny, blinked back in astonishment and his lips parted as he slowly stood up.

Dean drifted towards him as he remained by the window, hands hanging down his sides and staring. Then after the two of them blinked slowly at each other as if the curtains were finally drawn back to reveal a glimpse of what the truth may look like, Dean sat upon the soft cushion on the window seat first. Afterwards, Castiel joined him, the small space evidently too cramped to allow any space between them and instantly drawing their thighs and shoulders to touch.

“You look…amazing,” the older man said as his voice cracked and the hushed voices drifted from the table over the game, “do you like it? The sweater?”

Dean nodded slowly and inhaled deeply because the pressure still remained inside his chest. “Yeah. Thanks. Cas.”

The tension between them was so thick that his only wish was for so much more; to touch and to savor. But although the two of them remained seated close to each other, there was nothing he could do but remain quiet and patient and observant. And most of all, to achieve any ounce of composure, they would have to be a considerable distance away from the actuality of feeling the heat spreading through their clothes.

Castiel was driving Dean so crazy from infatuation, he marveled over the sudden change after their last time seated together on Ellen’s back porch. This time, there wasn’t just a desire to connect their thighs, but also a dire need to lean in and taste the warm air between their bodies. And Dean was so elated by the transformation of his feelings into a definite outcome that he was careful to refrain from overreacting in fear of coming across as too bold.

“Cas…”

“Yes?” the older man was staring into the hearth across the room, as if awaiting the resumption of the conversation.

“Why didn’t you reply to me?” Dean was on the verge of tears again and it was so unbecoming of him that he was mortified. “You never said anything after I sent you that voice note. Did I say something wrong? Because…I don’t get it. What the hell am I supposed to say? Did you…” his voice cracked as the older man stared back, “…change your mind about me because of what happened in New York?”

“Dean, I’m so sorry!” When Castiel tugged his phone out of his blue sweater, green eyes latched onto it. “I didn’t listen to your voice note,” he confessed softly, “my brother found a snake nesting in the washroom and all hell broke loose. Afterwards I…spent a considerable amount of time consoling Hanna who was actually on her way in to use the washroom. And then we came right over and well…your father couldn’t stop talking about how thrilled he was to have you back here—”

“Listen to it then,” Dean guiltily leaned into the older man’s left shoulder and his hand ached to entwine their fingers. But instead, to keep his hand busy, he collected the phone, thumbed the voice note and pressed the mobile onto the shell of the older man’s left ear.

Their eyes met, stayed connected and as the words were revealed to him, Castiel’s expression changed from a soft smile to a look of utter amazement. In between the seconds though, their hands inched closer and because he was hanging onto every word and suffocating as much as Dean seemed to be as green eyes filled with tears, Castiel reached for him.

In that moment, he allowed it, the soft feel of their fingers fitting together, hands trembling and then as the note rolled to the ending words, blue eyes leaked.

_I'm falling so hard for you that it's happening so fast and I can't even catch my breath._

_If you could only feel how I feel about you, it's like a storm inside of my chest._

_I want you to touch me. I want you to touch me all over so that you can make me feel what it's like to be touched by someone who cares about me._

_I don't know what love is anymore, because they ruined it for me. But I know that I love you with everything I have._

“Dean?” The older man’s lips quivered and slowly allowing the phone to fall between them onto the seat, he softly began to cry. “Are you really…”

Nodding and collapsing too, Dean tried a smile. “I really am.”

“My god,” Castiel whispered, burying his face into the crook of the younger man’s shoulder and trembling. "My dear god, Dean…"

But coming together finally was so much more mind-blowing than what they ever expected after their separation. It wasn’t like anything they ever felt before when words could suffice because this time, there was the desperate need to touch each other. But they couldn't, they could only hold onto each other whilst crying softly. And Castiel couldn’t contain his weakened composure anymore as he squeezed their entwined fingers, moaning into the scent of Irish Spring and he simply stayed there.

Their cheeks rubbed together so intimately, parted lips brushing the shells of their ears and very soon, they were so captivated by the desire emanating from deep inside that Dean marveled over the wave of it all. He didn't believe all of those feelings were buried deep down inside. His fingers wrapped around the back of Castiel's neck and raked pathways up into those soft, dark tendrils and his other hand carded up the older man's right arm. And he was breathless by the time the sounds in the room drifted back to them, the dull conversation and the crackling logs in the hearth.

“Dad,” Sam began, shuffling his tiles around and trying to figure out a word, “so get this. It finally happened.”

John’s eyes widened and his fingertips rested on the board, in the process of fixing up a long line of letters. _"_ What happened?"

"Operation Destiel," Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, the younger man sat back and folded his arms.

"You mean to tell me, it wasn't happening before?” he settled his gaze onto the window and studied Castiel intimately embraced in his son’s arms. “Well, I’ll be damned. And all this time I thought it was just a lovers' quarrel.”

“All he needed was a shove.”

Hanna though, glanced back, blinked at her friend’s face buried into Dean’s shoulder and she remained silent. Something passed inside her eyes, mostly disappointment as Sam would later understand to mean so much more. And when she noticed him observing her saddened expression, she sighed and offered a small smile. He in turn, returned a sympathetic look that suggested a mutual understanding of what it must feel like to watch someone you love desperately love someone else. And whilst her heart was obviously breaking, Hanna didn’t display her tears among them, but chose to revel in happiness instead because the man she loved was finally contented.

John sipped his apple cider and sighed at the pair by the window. “Ah, here they come. About damn time too since I love to see what odd words this man comes up with,” this he directed at Castiel who sat down next to Hanna and Dean followed shortly on his right.

“How about pairs whilst one of us looks up the words in the dictionary?” Sam suggested, eyeing his brother’s rosy cheeks and awkward smiles.

After Hanna picked up the job of deciding whether their words were accurate enough to earn points, Sam willingly joined his father whilst the other two men considered each other.

Dean was far too flustered to focus though and struggling to string the letters together, Castiel picked up the game and delivered as always. Within an hour the two of them gained more points than the other pair and because the night continued in a triumphant mood, the coldness from the winter couldn’t affect the small party gathered in the Winchester’s living room.

At some point, Castiel left to prepare a cup of tea and after Dean's eyes lingered at the retreating figure, Sam kicked his boot under the table. Jerking his chin and widening his eyes towards the kitchen, his brother picked up the signal and quickly rose up. Then excusing himself, he nervously approached the doorway and highlighted the depths which appeared so cozy but so consumed with sparks of nervousness.

The older man lifted his head when he felt those green eyes on him, just about to rest the kettle on the stove and standing back with a definite blush on his face. And it was so beautiful, Dean slowly closed the distance between them whilst gingerly chewing on his lips because he never could remember ever making someone else blush. Especially someone that he was absolutely in love with and to witness the creep of color forming on Castiel's face and neck; it was so satisfying.

"Would you um…" blue eyes rested on the kettle as his voice dipped, "like a cup of tea?"

Dean swallowed before drawing up so close that he was standing behind Castiel, and allowing his chest to press into the older man's back, he embraced the weakened reaction. "Sure, why not." It really _was_ there now, definitely intoxicating and drawing him in unlike before. Dancing his lips closer to Castiel's hair, he drowned in the scent of almond and honey before his right hand was reached for.

"Dean…" the older man croaked, leaning over the stove a little before his left hand found the handle to the oven, gripping it tightly, and those blue eyes fluttered close.

Fingers entwined, Dean pressed in a little more, trying to allow his body the sense of touch…to determine whether he was capable of physically reacting to the other man. "It's like you just…turned on something inside of me…you're driving me crazier now that I can…feel you."

"I can feel you…too," Castiel whispered, leaning back and savoring when Dean rubbed their cheeks together slowly. "All of you."

Almost as if something sparked inside of him, the younger man's eyes widened and sucking in a generous amount of air, he quickly separated them. "Fuck, I'm…" raking his fingers through his hair, Dean swallowed hard before Castiel turned to gaze at him, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Are you sure?" turning back to the kettle, the older man retrieved it and gently tipped the spout closer to a small teacup. "It doesn't seem like you preferred anything else."

Already he was falling prey to their heightened chemistry which was only growing deeper and deeper with each passing hour since he first arrived. "You uh…forgot to pour one for me," Dean highlighted, feeling the front of his pants grow a little stiff and shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, right! Forgive me for being distracted," Castiel completed the other cup and stirred honey into both before carefully lifting a saucer up and depositing it into Dean's hand. Their eyes met, green ones widening and then returning to creating distance between them, the older man picked up his own cup and leaned onto the counter, feet crossed at the ankles. "So, just to let you know, I've also mastered the art of downloading files from emails on my phone, editing and sending them back to clients."

"Awesome." Dean's eyes automatically drifted lower once again and when he identified the tent in Castiel's pants, he glanced away. "You're on your way to becoming a techy now, huh?"

"As a matter of fact, I most certainly am. I _am_ a fast learner. Dean?"

"Yeah?" green eyes immediately focused on blue ones and his chest heaved. "What's up?"

Castiel smiled wryly before sipping his tea and not once did he tear away from their gaze. He took his time, allowing the suspense to grow, the anticipation until resting the cup onto the saucer, he licked his lips. "There's no shame in checking me out."

"I'm not…" Dean's chest heaved, and he shook his head, entirely growing flustered, "I'm not checking…you…out. That's not what…"

"You're evidently responding…"

"Huh?"

Castiel lowered his eyes boldly to rest on the front of the younger man's jeans. "Now _I'm_ checking _you_ out. And I'm quite fascinated by what I’m seeing. Hmm?"

"Shit," quickly resting the saucer and cup onto the nearest ledge, Dean's face flushed deep red as he turned around and fled down the hall towards the washroom.

This was not happening to him now, not when he was merely having a conversation. But blame it on him for getting into the other man's personal space and trying to taste what it was like, trying to ascertain what the tension contained.

Now, when he fumbled for the door and hustled in, he locked himself in before leaning against the wall. The inability to breathe, the deep throbbing ache inside of his pants that caused him to forcefully unbuckle his belt and unzipping and when he considered how tight his boxers were, he couldn't believe the reaction.

Tossing his head back onto the tiled wall, Dean's eyes fluttered close when he dared to touch himself through the dark blue fabric. Immediately the act produced a weakening sensation that travel down his thighs and curl his toes. He was reaching for tissues without even thinking about the rest. Already wetting his boxers, Dean collected his cock between nervous fingers and gasped, shifting uncomfortably on the wall and praying to God that no one came through to knock on the door.

But obviously Castiel did because he always was destined to find him. "Dean? Are you okay?" he whispered through the door. "I'm sorry I was so bold. I'm…terrible at this, aren't I? Dean?"

Throwing his head back, Dean came hard between the wad of tissues and his legs weakened until he sank onto his knees. His vision pinched around the edges, gasping for air as he strained again from a wave of release and groaning loudly, he blindly reached for the small cabinet and doubled over.

Tears filled his eyes because if he needed any further confirmation on his physical attraction to Castiel, he was slowly being convinced from the way his body was reacting. On his first and final release, his hips jerking forward and clawing at the hard wood, Dean cleaned up himself, eyes squeezed shut and he just _knew_ that Castiel was still standing on the other side of the door. He just felt bombarded with feelings for the other man, didn't know what to do, what to _think_ at that point. And after slowly rising to his feet, he washed his face before staring into a pair of eyes that were wide and searching.

When was the last time he actually reacted that way to anyone in particular? Possibly over five years since Jo and Lisa and even they couldn't compel his body to strain so hard and come to a release so quickly. All of it happened in less than half an hour, which surprised Dean so much, that he feared opening the door. He feared walking out there and wondering what would happen next, if he would become so hard again and have to disappear into his room. But after going into the hallway again, he found Castiel leaning onto the wall and immediately the older man stood up, utter worry inside those blue eyes that widened.

"Dean, what happened?"

"I threw up," he lied and weakly raked his fingers through his hair, offering a wry smile, "must be the long hours on the road or some pretty messed up coffee we had. But I'm all good now."

Those penetrating blue eyes delved deeper, searching for more until the truth was so plain on Dean's face, his pale complexion, weakened disposition and creased pants that Castiel's only response was to stare back in absolute amazement.

"Don't look at me like that, okay?" the younger man said in a hoarse tone, lowering his eyes and blushing from shame.

"Okay," obviously swimming in feelings too conflicting to voice, Castiel nodded before inhaling deeply. "Um, your… _tea_ …is growing cold. Maybe you should—"

"Right," hastily, Dean headed towards the kitchen where he retrieved the saucer, picked up the cup and drank the rest of the barely hot liquid.

He knew, with a quick scrutiny, Castiel just knew instantly what had happened. There was nothing he could conceal from the other man, nothing at all at that point and because he majorly needed some kind of room for secrecy in terms of how his body was reacting and his innermost feelings, Dean felt so ashamed. He wished not to be so exposed, to feel so vulnerable and when Castiel came into the kitchen to find him again, he moved quickly to the sink to wash up the saucer and cup.

"I went to the animal shelter today," the older man tried in an uneven tone, and really and truly he was struggling to maintain some sense of normalcy between them. "I haven't been since June and I couldn’t stop petting the rabbits. They're so…fluffy and the cats…there were so many cats…Dean, I already have one but I'd really like another."

"Then you should get one," rinsing the cup and turning it over on the green plastic rack, the younger man tidied up with a dry towel, avoiding eye contact. "There's no such thing as too many pets. I can remember a couple years back you had six rabbits."

"Yes. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue and Indigo."

"Remind me why the hell you named those bunnies after the colors of the rainbow?" forehead creasing, Dean smiled as the air shifted between them to feeling a little lighter.

Castiel chuckled before coming into the kitchen and reaching for the cord by the microwave, he pulled it out, always conscious of conserving electricity. "I'm a very strange character. _You_ above everyone else should be quite familiar with my quirks. _Dean_ , don't bundle the wet towel by the faucet. How many times do I have to tell you to wring and hang it on the handle of the stove to dry?"

"Okay, got it," complying instantly, he shook his head before recalling Ellen scolding him about the same thing. "So, what's up with you and Hanna now? How long is she going to be around?"

"Before the week is out, she will leave. You needn't worry—"

"I'm not worrying," Dean lied, fixing the towel and working on such a task a little too long.

Castiel sighed. "Yes, you are. You're still convinced that I'm attached to her, aren't you?"

"Look, you _did_ admit that you were going to try something with her…and did you tell her about… _this_?" turning around, Dean braved their eyes to meet.

"You mean _us_?" the older man corrected before drawing nearer and when he highlighted the widening of green eyes, Castiel stopped before swallowing. "Is there an us, Dean?"

"You two!" bellowed John from the living room, "get your asses in here before I come in there and interrupt you getting handsy on each other."

"My dad _loves_ this a little too much," Dean headed to the doorway and brushed past Castiel who took his arm, and instantly, he stopped and stiffened. It was so surprising how now when they collided, the air between them felt so electric when possibly a week ago, all of this would have been brushed aside as nothing meaningful.

"I want you. I don't want Hanna. And I most certainly don’t want anything else but an _us_." Castiel said and tugging Dean closer, the teasing continued by lingering his lips onto the younger man's left cheek. Softly, he pressed a kiss that lasted two seconds, and Dean's chest heaved from becoming overwhelmed again, his face leaning into the connection like his life depended on it. Then almost abruptly, the spark was broken and he was left to stare at the retreating figure of someone who was now determined to leave a lasting impression.

Very soon, Sam decided to retire to bed and John, after tirelessly working on three vehicles during the day, yawned a few times to suggest that he was fatigued but remained on the couch in front of the television.

Hanna ventured out to join Balthazar midway along the trail between the two estates, even as the snow rested five inches already and covering the grass. And as Dean looped a red scarf around his neck, Castiel slipped into a black winter coat that reached past his knees, additionally pulling on a pair of sleek black gloves. Green eyes though, remain latched onto every single move the older man made, even the rise and fall of his chest as he pulled open the door and stepped into the stillness of the night.

He was beginning to rely heavily on observation, when before those simple things meant nothing but were taken for granted. Now, every single move was studied, and because he realized how his attention latched onto those things, Dean became thrilled by the newest feeling of falling in love and how it felt like nothing he had ever experienced.

“You don’t have to accompany me,” Castiel said softly, turning to consider the younger man who was following close behind. “I know you must be tired. I can manage—”

“No,” Dean, bundled up in his thick blue coat and gazed wide-eyed into pools of blue. “I want to…besides, there’s nothing else to do inside but to go straight to bed and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Why?” Castiel asked softly, descending the steps carefully and glancing at the two figures already lingering by the front door of the Novak’s estate.

“You know why, Cas.”

Intensely searching each other’s eyes, both of them inched nearer and as the misty cloud formed from their breaths intermingled, they entwined their fingers and descended the stairs. This time though, they weren’t just friends anymore, not a young boy accompanying his mentor after dinner but so much more that even Dean couldn’t quite digest the severity of it all at once.

By the time they were standing by the wooden fence painted green and Castiel’s gloved right hand lingered on the opened wrought iron gate, a silence settled between them again. The cold was too bitter to gnaw at Dean’s bones and wrap his heart into a solid icy fist, therefore he could not continue to drown in the kind of warmth that their nearness provided. It was something that he craved more than anything else, possibly breathing and because Castiel remained with his back facing him, his only decision was to stand there in anticipation.

“Do you think that this tension between us will ever just…die away?” the older man asked softly, still staring at the porch light in the distance that shone yellow like a globe.

Dean sighed, arms wrapped around himself because his hands only yearned to capture the older man into an embrace. “I don’t know, Cas, but I hope so. Can you…look at me? I need you to just... _look_ at me, you know?”

Immediately Castiel turned around and offered a gaze that was too intense to digest and because the connection remained strong enough to weaken their composure, they drew nearer because something always tugged them closer. It was never a force to struggle with, no matter what was said or done, fights and harsh words, gravity stepped in and entwined their worlds. And because their confessions still lingered in the air, both of them searched inside their eyes for so much more that could not be said.

“So, these last two days, huh,” Dean said bashfully, his cheeks coloring although the collar of his coat was turned up to keep out the high winds. “I’ve never missed you like this before,” he reflexively reached for his cheek, the same place where he was not so long ago kissed so tenderly. "It's like I couldn't breathe without you."

Castiel’s eyes latched onto the younger man’s green ones and he couldn’t even decide whether his own lungs worked or not. “Neither have I, if that’s even possible, Dean,” the gravelly quality of his voice dipped lower. “I am still frightened that this may not be real.”

Dean frowned though because at that point he was so certain that his intentions were abundantly clear. And after searching the gaze directed at him, there were still doubts; something he couldn’t quite understand.

“I can’t breathe without you or stop thinking about you…doesn’t that relieve you in any way? I mean, dammit, Cas,” Dean’s voice hoarsened when he became breathless from just rushing out the words, as if surfing on a wave of feelings, “I’m trying here, you know? You of all people know how expressing myself is something that I’m not really good at—”

“Dean, I know that,” Castiel’s tone softened as he offered an embarrassed look and gloved hands that lifted as if to gesticulate but then he lowered them with a sigh, “believe me I understand you.…” he swallowed and longed to express so much more, “…but I’ve waited so long and thought that this moment would never happen in this lifetime. And although you’ve said so much already, I just can’t—"

Castiel gasped when Dean suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him in closer. But the younger man’s intention was to initiate a hug, to close the distance between them. Immediately though, the passion intensified and desperately, their lips danced nearer, their eyelashes fluttering, warm breath kissing each other’s faces. And because Castiel was so unprepared for the returned feelings that finally signaled how deeply Dean was attracted to him, he couldn’t catch his breath.

He couldn’t believe how the younger man’s body trembled from their embrace, and because they were coming together for the first time with the knowledge of how love could overflow from a friendship into so much more, the world disappeared around them.

Dean’s skin suddenly ached like he developed a fever, his mind turned upside down and the wave of pleasure that pooled inside his gut was nothing like he ever experienced before. It was warm, so warm and becoming like fire that grew and spread through his body and into his bones. Their lips danced nearer, kept tasting each other's breaths… And because he was so terrified from the way his body reacted to the other man’s fire, Dean quickly untangled himself and stepped back, staring in disbelief from the thoughts that blossomed inside his mind.

He was not expecting himself to become so captivated by the moment, like so many others when they hugged each other but this time was completely different. This time, the two of them simply could not hold each other as friends because they weren’t friends anymore as he highlighted earlier.

He honestly thought that when he held Castiel so tenderly on the window seat, the embrace would be soft and reassuring. The reaching of arms and entwining of fingers and the soft comfort from innocence without breaking boundaries. But from the moment their bodies came flush together, it was definite that there was no turning back.

“Dean?” Castiel’s eyes filled with tears so quickly, as his tone faltered after dying from the two feet of space between them. “Are you alright? Did I…did I do something wrong?”

A strained expression crossed the younger man’s face as he battled with the developing attraction that was changing him mentally and physically. Therein, he decided that maybe it was very new to physically desire someone of the same sex, but that someone wasn’t just a stranger. That someone was beautiful and kind and understood him, loved him for years and sheltered him. And when Dean was so certain that he could trust his reactions because of the worth, he slowly closed the distance between them again.

This time though, Castiel’s chest heaved uncontrollably from fear of rejection in those green eyes, from hanging on the precipice and wondering if he would be released to fall and shatter into a million pieces. But when Dean, breathless as he was, came close enough to rest their foreheads together, Castiel weakened in his grasp, falling into his arms, and sighing from relief.

From there, although the younger man was a little too slow to relax. He wanted to calm down, to pace himself instead of running on overdrive and making some regrettable mistake but he was strapped to a comet hurling into a moment of bliss. He wasn’t sure where this kind of passion would lead him, if he would fall from his weakened knees or start babbling about something ridiculous, but all he understood was that the fever from the connection was too beautiful to pull away from. And Castiel held him tenderly, pressing their cheeks together and embracing Dean tightly as their bodies fitted perfectly together despite the abundance of their coats in the way.

"I've got you," he said softly, tears burning his eyes from the perfectness of the moment. "I've finally caught up."

"Oh darling," Castiel croaked, wrapping his arms tighter and pulling them in as much as could be allowed.

Dean raked his fingers through the older man’s hair and drowned in the scent of Old Spice, honey and vanilla. His parted lips rested onto the shell of the other man’s right ear as their hips pressed together, and for the first time, he recognized that he desired so much more than what he ever expected from someone else. He could feel himself opening up in many ways unlike before, his body yearning to be touched in places where he never believed another man’s hands would ever roam.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, the sound humming between them like something awakening from years of slumber. “You’re the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You too,” he could only manage, and burying his face into the older man’s neck, Dean swayed slowly, eager to provide some kind of movement to grind their hips together enough. He felt the warm tears wetting his cheeks and believed that he was crying until he realized that it wasn’t him.

“Am I making you sad?” he asked, holding onto the older man tenderly and pressing a kiss onto his hair. Dean felt like his heart would burst.

“You could never make me sad,” Castiel croaked, pulling his head back a little and allowing their eyes to meet. Blue orbs were wet and mellow, and warm and beautiful. “You are so…precious and deserving of so much love that I would like to give to you every second of every day.”

After the desperate need to kiss each other overwhelmed them to drift nearer again, Dean gasped when Castiel rested parted lips onto his right cheek instead of allowing the connection to happen for the first time between them. And although he craved that kiss more than breathing, he welcomed the diversion and nuzzled their faces together as the sexual tension between them intensified.

“I should go.”

When Dean listened to those three words and felt the weight hang like boulders under his heart, he wanted to cry. But squeezing his eyes shut, he immediately pressed a soft chaste kiss onto Castiel’s forehead, lips lingering there for a few seconds and then he stepped away.

From the moment though, when he detached his arms from the older man, a saddened look settled on that handsome face, almost as if he was expecting so much more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, huggy bear.”

Castiel nodded, providing a small smile but never a look of utter delight. “Counting down the hours. Good night,” and just like that, he cast one last intense gaze at Dean before turning on the spot and walking away.

Every single step that was taken though, felt like a mile between each other, miles and miles that stretched until the older man reached the porch and waved. Unlike before, when he would capture all of this from his bedroom window, Dean stood outside in the cold as snowflakes drifted down and kissed his face and he sighed.

There were no words to describe the longing inside of him to race across the moor and do something reckless, like kissing Castiel for the first time full on his mouth and dragging him inside the estate. God knows what they would achieve afterwards if such a thing occurred, but it would be like going into a situation blindfolded because he didn’t even give the physical aspect of their relationship any much thought thus far.

What would he do? What were two men supposed to do? Were they supposed to use their hands on each other like they did on themselves? There had to be more, and there certainly used to be so many gay references in high school when people kept teasing Benny about being _fucked in the ass_. But just the thought of even attempting something like that frightened Dean because he couldn't wrap his mind around the whole experience and what it must feel like. Even the thought of Castiel seeing him naked for the first time seemed to throw him into so much nervousness that he stopped breathing.

So, after realizing that indeed he needed to pace himself in order to thoroughly allow these newfound feelings to develop properly and mature enough to make their bond last, Dean went back to the house. He tucked a blanket around his father’s sleeping form, headed up the staircase and was just pulling on his teddy bear printed pajamas when his mobile screen lit up.

Smiling widely, he quickly tugged on his pants and plopped onto the softness of his bed that was oh so cold from being uninhabited for a while. Then answering the video call on WhatsApp, he settled onto his back and could literally feel his face heating up when Castiel’s intense blue eyes gazed back at him, contrasting with the caramel colored walls behind.

"Hi." That nervous smile and then the older man gingerly chewed his bottom lip.

"Long time no see, huggy bear."

“Dean, have you seen Shadow Hunters as yet? Charlie recommended it to me.” The faint yellow light cast a glow just enough to illuminate a very soft looking pile of pillows of warm blue tones behind the older man.

“I haven't, but I was hoping to read the books first…”

“Obviously because you are thus influenced by me. In this case though,” Castiel squeaked whilst adjusting his position on the bed and his face ducked out of view for a few seconds, “you must attempt it because it is so intriguing and will very well pique your interest—”

“Cas…” Dean croaked, melting from the fuzziness inside of his chest, and reaching for his thick maroon colored blanket, he tucked himself underneath it.

But the older man continued, obviously unaware of the tremendous impact the connection presented. “I’m at Season 2 already and completely enjoying _Malec_. I thought that I would be disinterested by the storyline but it is proving to be quite an enjoyable ride and—”

“Cas!” Dean tried again, this time though, he turned on his side and sunk deeper into the soft sheets. “Slow down, okay? I’m still trying to process the fact that you video called me and you have like a million pillows behind you right now.”

Chuckling, Castiel lifted the phone a little and revealed a beautiful painting of a sunny oceanside above the head of his bed before settling on the pile of oddly stuffed shapes, “these? Actually, I’ve built a collection over the years. Ah! A Malec scene!”

“Okay, who the hell is this Malec dude?” Immediately, the phone camera flipped and presented a flat screen television mounted on the wall directly in front of the older man’s bed. And just when Dean was growing accustomed to finally viewing Castiel’s bedroom without stepping a foot into the space as yet, he highlighted two men desirously close to each other and then after gazing intently, they softly kissed. “Oh,” he realized that the name was attached to the pairing. “Damn, you like that, huh?”

“Very much so,” Castiel’s face returned after flipping the camera again and smiling warmly, a rosy pink settling on his cheeks. “I’ve guiltily been perusing as much television shows and movies with gay themes and main plotlines over the past years. Call it me trying to achieve some kind of temporary relief because I could not experience such a romance of my own.”

“With me,” Dean said softly, fingers curling around the phone, and soft footsteps padded up the staircase, signaling that his father was finally retreating to bed. “Cas, do you want to know something whacko about all of this?” When the older man blinked slowly, somehow mesmerized by their faces on the video, Dean sighed. “Since that night when you held my hand downstairs in front of the fireplace, you know, when I was holding the baby, I kind of started seeing you different.”

Castiel’s eyes shifted back to the camera and then he reached for the remote, “okay, it doesn’t seem as if I’ll even be able to concentrate on this episode. Naturally, you are completely capable of distracting me, more than ever _now_ so…what do you mean by different?”

“In a gay way.”

“Ah,” the older man snorted and then turned on his side, “might I ask what that could have meant to you back then?”

Dean thought about the question and didn’t even have to debate on the answer. “More like a tingly feeling down my damn arm and into my chest and then when we held hands in the cinema, I was like shit…he’s doing it again. What the hell does this mean? Are we being too gay now? _You_ doing the same thing in the car. Man, you really had me thinking… Is he trying to tell me something?”

“I _was_ actually trying to tell you without words that I’m in love with you…”

“Yeah, but I kept thinking that maybe you were doing it because we were so comfortable with each other already. And maybe other guys don’t get so touchy but we could…because we have a _profound bond_ and all.”

Castiel laughed softly and shrugged, then his eyes drooped. “Indeed, we do, Dean. Indeed, we do. And now you can imagine all the pain you caused me after honestly believing that I could entertain any kind of flirtations attempts by Jo or even find Charlie as a match.”

“Guess we gave each other some kind of hell during these past weeks. Not forgetting Hanna.”

“Well,” Castiel yawned and snuggled into the pillows, half his face disappearing but although the room was dimly lit, the pool of blue still contained so much depth, “we are compensating for the wrongs, are we not? Now, I hope that no one can come between us again.” He yawned widely.

“You’re sleepy,” Dean felt his eyelids growing heavy too, “we’ll talk later, right?”

“Oh, most definitely, we will, my darling. Good night and sweet dreams.”

For a long time, he just lingered there, his green eyes blinking slowly and savoring the pair that gazed back at him. Becoming so convinced that they were completely in love with each other wasn’t so hard to achieve, in fact, Dean was certain of it.

“I wish my pillow was you right now,” he said as his voice cracked and the world outside grew too quiet. The winds howled once and awhile but never too often to disturb the stillness. “I wish I could hold you again."

"I wish I could hold you too."

"I feel bad about lying to you tonight, but…" Dean buried his chin deeper into his pillow and swam through the nervousness boldly. "I didn’t throw up. I…was uh…it was too much for me so I had to get it out. If you know what I mean?"

"You're adorable when you're blushing," Castiel said softly, smiling as he turned onto his side and gazed at Dean. "I'm quite familiar with what happened because I've been there before. Which is why I can never ever wear jeans when I'm around you."

"What?" feeling his neck grow considerably warmer, the younger man found it difficult to breathe because the confession was so natural, something which wouldn't have happened before, especially about that subject "Are you serious?"

"Yes, quite serious."

"I've done that…I've made you…" Dean's voice cracked because the thought of another man reacting in such a way to him was exhilarating and unbelievable. "Cas?"

That warm smile that could melt ice caps. "Yes, you have."

"Good night. Dream of me.” Dean said softly, felt himself falling asleep and sighed, his chest growing warmer and lighter. "I can't wait to hug you again. Sweetheart."

“Soon, darling,” Castiel said softly, “I love you.”

After he was completely aware of the older man awaiting his response though, he just couldn’t return the three words. And so Dean ended the call, feeling a little miserable from his inability to just give in but knowing that soon he would.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past two weeks really and truly WRECKED ME. I am mentally exhausted and I couldn't even edit my own work, but I do apologize and what motivated me was knowing that all of you NEED a distraction right now. This fic breathes life into many of you. So do enjoy.

**Excerpt:**

_"Do you really touch yourself when you think of me? Did I ever make you…”_

_“Several times,” Castiel said softly, taking tentative steps closer as the office weighed down with so much sexual tension. When Dean’s lips parted, the older man examined the stunned expression and still closed the distance between them. He swallowed and held his breath, his disposition registering nothing but openness. “My hands wander, and I lose my mind thinking of you touching me, of you kissing me."_

* * *

For approximately five years, Dean lapsed on one of his hobbies that most definitely brought a kind of tranquility to life apart from reading. Perusing the pages of books proved to be quite an adventure for a mind eager to explore without traversing outside of Littleton, but his passion for music was something that stilled the turmoil in his later teenage years.

When he dusted off the dark blue case of his guitar and John listened to the soft strums drifting from Dean’s room, he frowned because changes were occurring.

Firstly, his son returned home quite emotionally exhausted and ended up in the window seat with Castiel bundled in his arms. Then the two of them almost kissed near the fence as he observed guiltily from the window upstairs and marveled over the sudden change. But the most beautiful part of Dean’s transformation was suddenly revisiting the hobbies that used to bring joy to him apart from reading.

Dean was suddenly caressing the strings of his guitar, baking in the kitchen and humming to himself, helping the maid to prepare dinner in the afternoons and getting greasy out in the workshop most days. The latter surprised even Bobby who became accustomed to believing that John’s older son was too posh and accomplished to get his hands dirty. But when Dean delved under cars, definitely diagnosed and fixed many vehicular ailments, the two older men stood back and allowed him the opportunity. And because university was still on break, there was nothing to occupy most of his days except the likeness of two people; Charlie and Castiel.

But after their _almost kiss_ that evening after Dean returned from New York, the week ahead was consumed with the older man busily aiding people to sort out their finances as the new year approached. Every single day a client appeared, requesting assistance and equipped with a generous amount of money, and although Castiel expressed his disappointment after being unable to visit during the day, the two of them still managed to upkeep their correspondence via texting. But even those could not dull the growing desire in Dean’s heart to achieve some kind of nearness between the two, dreaming constantly of the warm feeling of Castiel in his arms and aching to somehow bring them close again.

The days proved to be dull without the older man’s visits and by dinner, Dean attempted to enjoy the evening with his father’s company alone but suffered through the hour by staring out the window at the Novak’s estate.

Maybe he was growing a little too paranoid but it appeared as if Castiel was possibly avoiding him after that night, and repeatedly Dean tried to decipher the reasons why. But he could not understand what could have gone wrong to keep the other man apart from him deliberately, unless it was the disappointment in his inability to completely express himself and what he desired, and the kiss that did not happen.

“You look so different,” was Charlie’s warm greeting the moment she rode over on Friday morning and hopped of the Harley. Smiling widely, the two of them embraced then she held her friend at arm’s length and scrutinized his countenance. “There’s something definitely different about you. You’re…glowing these days.”

“Dude, glowing in this weather? I don’t think so,” Dean ruffled her red hair playfully and continued shoveling snow out of the driveway. The sun tried to poke its face through the thick coldness but thus far, the heaviness still hung in the air. “What about you and Dorothy? You two good?”

“Yeah,” Charlie dusted soft snow from the bench where a few weeks ago, Castiel cried in Dean’s arms after speaking about Claire. Sitting down comfortably, dressed in brown winter boots, thick wool pants and a bright pink snow jacket, she laughed. “Look at you working up some muscles. Shovel away, Winchester.”

“You know, in case you didn’t notice, I actually _already_ have muscles,” Dean grinned, his chin partially covered by the high neck of his blue jacket. “I’m not soft.”

“Oh, you are so soft like a marshmallow,” shivering slightly, she hugged herself and glanced towards the back of the house where the workshop was closed for the day. “Your dad’s on a break or something?”

Dean stuck the shovel into a pile of snow and stretched his back, squinting up at the bright sky, “he and Bobby suddenly got a brilliant idea yesterday to go fishing in Harlow’s Creek. Not too far from here through the forest.” He pointed towards a small clearing where a definite path was trodden.

“How exactly do you fish when the creek is frozen over?”

“Cut a hole in the ice and drop the line through it,” Dean tugged the front of his coat tighter together and wondered when the sun would produce enough heat to chill the coldness seeping into his bones. “They asked me to go but I kind of figured the two of them needed some time to bond.” When guiltily, he only stayed behind just hoping that a certain someone would come over, although the older man was swamped with people’s financial woes. “How’s teaching going?”

“School’s out today,” Charlie idly wrapped the black strings around her mittens and pouted. “You know, it’s funny but I feel so bored already without them. It’s like we’ve grown so close, I feel like they’re my own kids in a way. Like just yesterday, they did this whole thing for me where they pooled together their money and bought me a really nice winter coat and a pink satchel. I felt so super adored.”

“That’s actually the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a while,” Dean resumed shoveling and neatly lined the sides of the driveway as he progressed. “That the same coat they gave you?” he jerked his chin at her outfit and Charlie’s cheeks flushed.

“Nah, this is actually Dorothy’s jacket.”

Dean stopped and immediately cast her an impressed look, hands planted on his hips. “Is that so? You two sharing clothes now too?”

“Well…” he admired how her face dusted with the most adorable pink as eye contact was avoided and she instead gazed at the fountain that wasn’t bubbling like usual, “I kind of have been sleeping over by her a few days now—”

So, naturally, the relationship kicked off and was slowly pushing its way down the tracks, which didn’t surprise him, considering that the feelings were mutual. But even though he still believed she deserved better, he restricted those comments.

“Man, that’s—” tilting his head, Dean’s smile was wide and warm, “that’s something. I’m glad for you because most of all, you look happy. Talking about glowing? You’re glowing. I just wish that I wasn’t such a dick about it before.”

“It’s not your fault,” Charlie said softly, “you were just looking out for me. Besides, I’ve never had someone who cares about me so much like you and I feel like I finally have some kind of family away from the orphanage. And I just want you to know that it really matters to me that you care.”

After blinking slowly at the snow, Dean nodded and realized that for a long time, he too was hoping to achieve some kind of a bond with someone else apart from the people who he already considered family. And Charlie was as good as any, just like the little sister he never had whenever he desired someone to confide in.

Apart from the usual developments in his life, which he decided were better to reveal soon enough, Charlie was always there to comfort him. And very soon, he would have to brief her on the most recent transformations, possibly right there and then but after shoveling some more and noticing that her conversation died down, Dean glanced over.

The smile on Charlie’s face was bright like the sun and those green eyes rested on something right behind him. “What?” he frowned and stuck the shovel into the heap of snow. “You daydreaming about Dorothy again?”

Slowly shaking her head though, a dreamy expression crossed her face and she sighed. “Not exactly.”

“Then what—” when Dean’s vision was suddenly obscured by someone planting their gloved palms upon his eyes, he gasped.

At first, the intrusion was a little too irritating because he detested surprises, but the soft scent of Old Spice drifted under his nose and immediately weakened his knees, and Dean melted like butter. He became softer and warmer than before when the older man stepped up so close behind him, and pressed their bodies together and after feeling warm breath kiss his neck, he lost composure. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to unhinge him, and because he was finally in close proximity to the very person who captured every minute of thought, he was a little too contented to conceal any kind of excitement.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel’s gravelly voice brushed his ear in a beautiful sensation after the two of them were distanced from each other for a few days.

Turning around slowly, Dean’s shoulders were immediately taken into gloved hands and squeezed softly and because the tension was so electric between them, he drifted nearer. “Cas, hi,” he was suddenly breathless, and like magnets, they really could feel the pull between them.

“Long time no see,” the older man smiled warmly as he brushed a few strands away from Dean’s forehead with his gloved fingers then those blue eyes twinkled at Charlie and he waved. “My dear friend. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Definitely!”

Staring and obviously astonished by what was unfolding in front of her eyes, Charlie sat up straighter and admired her two friends in a warm embrace. And Dean, well he was still gazing into blue pools that were the lightest shade and capable of drowning him completely if not for the realization that the young woman was not yet privy to any updates and therefore witnessing the sudden nearness between him and Castiel would be a little too confusing.

“Thought you were swamped with work?” Dean slowly stepped away, collected the shovel and his heart groaned from the absence of the older man’s arms.

“Well, surprisingly, something very delicate has come up. Claire,” Castiel directed his gaze at Charlie and sighed, “showed up last night on my doorstep and she refuses to speak to me unless I involve a mediator. Her preference for such a job is no other than _you_.”

Dean didn’t realize that two pairs of eyes were resting on him until he noticed the silence and stopped shoveling. “Me?” he stared back at the older man and frowned. “Why me? Come on, man.”

“Dean,” Charlie said, rolling her eyes in disbelief, “are you even surprised right now? Obviously, she’d want you to act as the middle man because you’re close to both parties involved. Think of it as being a friend with benefits for both Cas and blondie. Or maybe more than a _friend_ …” she mumbled the last bit and considered the ground, suddenly appearing quite crestfallen.

“Will you do it?” Castiel wrung his gloved hands and pleaded with Dean as the shoveling paused again and their eyes met. “For me? You are aware of how much this means to me. And I am most obviously in your debt if you—”

“Cas, you will never owe me anything,” Dean said softly with immediate disapproval. “Come on, you ask a favor, and I’m all in. Anything for you, man.”

The intense gaze that followed between them was so revealing to Charlie that she clearly understood what sitting in the dark felt like. Possibly the decision to eliminate her from being a confidante was purposeful with intention on both sides, but it still did not prevent her from feeling entirely undeserving. And therefore, after admiring Dean’s immediate _heart eyes_ delivered to a very soft and desperately in love Castiel, she sat there and swallowed down the disappointment but such a thing did not go unnoticed by the older man.

“Did you _tell_ her?” he tugged Dean nearer and rested his hand upon the younger man’s hip, blue eyes imploring the truth.

“Did I tell who what?” Castiel’s parted lips were gazed at and utilizing all of his composure, Dean prevented the dying desire from building up inside. He wanted to kiss him so badly, that the air between them felt like a million miles instead of inches and although their lips drifted closer, he steadied himself enough to prevent the connection from happening.

Castiel though was quite privy to the passion developing between them, that he also struggled to regain himself. “Charlie. Did you tell her about us? Please tell me that you did because she’s clearly astonished from seeing us like this and I would hate to create some kind of displeasure—”

Dean’s lowered gaze served as a definite answer that nothing revealing was discussed with the young woman. And because Castiel’s inner response was always to scold, in that moment, he buried the urge deep down inside and instead, focused on what mattered the most.

“Dean, badly done, _you_ may not be able to express your feelings easily especially to me,” Castiel said softly, caressing the younger man’s face as the same intense gaze was enacted again, “but you have an obligation to at least try to upkeep that kind of respect with the people who matter the most to you. I’m quite certain that she confided in you about Dorothy, therefore you must mention something to the girl. Believe me when I tell you this,” blue eyes widened as if seeking out a troubling occurrence, “it is not a pleasant feeling to be left in the dark when you feel most deserving of the truth. I’ve been there when your mother concealed her relationship with your father from me. And as the best friend in the picture, when the truth was revealed a while after, my disappointment in her distrust was overwhelming. You must not feel as if your struggles are yours to bear alone, my love…”

Dean’s stunned expression was only as a result of the sweetest name resting in the air between them like a soft and beautiful feeling. “Dammit, Cas. Keep giving me pet names and I’ll—” his words faltered when the actuality of easily revealing the truth felt so comfortable.

The older man smiled and raised his eyebrows. “You’ll what? Hmm? Kiss me? I hope you do but don’t strain yourself. I’ve been waiting a long time and I can wait some more. Charlie, my dear,” Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder and considered the bundle of pink on the bench who immediately beamed in his direction, “can you join us later? I will not ask Dean because he has no choice on the matter. But you…it would be most appreciated if you could come too.”

“I kind of have to go back to school to share out report cards, which I’m looking forward to since they all did fantastic,” she shrugged and immediately appeared disappointed. “Can’t send them off on holiday without those.”

“Indeed, you cannot. I’m so proud of you having your own class after only being in the post for a little over two weeks,” Castiel smiled, maintaining his soft grip on the younger man’s shoulder, “the tea date is still pending. Don’t you dare forget. How about this weekend? Perhaps tomorrow would suffice? Just you and me? I’ll reveal many embarrassing things about this one here from when he was younger.”

“I’ll be there at six sharp,” she grinned as Dean scowled and picked up the shovel. “Wouldn’t miss that for anything else. You doing okay, Cassie Cas?”

“I couldn’t be better,” he winked at her as the younger man busied himself in the snow. “You were right! He _is_ in love with me,” he mouthed behind the younger man’s back, blue eyes widening. “I’m so happy, I cannot believe it and the most—” when Dean glanced at him, Castiel clamped his mouth shut and appeared to be studying the upstairs window of the house.

After frowning at Charlie’s flushed cheeks and terribly astonished expression, Dean nodded slowly and sighed. “You two are unbelievable! Are you honestly talking about me behind my damn back?”

“Would never!” the young woman gasped dramatically and concealed half her face behind pink mittens.

Castiel, on the other hand chuckled and again ruffled Dean’s beanie, this time, almost peeling away the fabric from the younger man’s head. “See you at lunch. And don’t you even think about skipping. I’ll come over here and drag you by the ear if I have to.”

“Very cute, Cas,” Dean nodded and stared as the older man retreated, “very…adorable.”

After waving and leaving shoe marks in the snow, Castiel passed through the gate, closed it swiftly behind him and then left the two young people in silence. But the silence wasn’t prolonged as Dean dragged the shovel over to the bench and slowly lowered himself beside his friend. Studying her mittens, Charlie sighed and after he leaned into her, she turned to blink at him as if expecting only the truth, which was after all, most deserving.

“Long story short,” he provided in a soft tone after feeling too guilty, “is after he basically came right out and told me he loves me at Ellen’s dinner, he kind of…I don’t know, flipped on this switch inside of me? Then this lady friend showed up and I got all jealous and the two of us fought over it. After that…” he considered how Charlie was staring, “I basically fled to New York because I couldn’t believe I was actually having all these feelings for him. I mean, it pretty much feels like I was holding back everything behind a wall and he just managed to crack it. And whilst I was in New York, this dude hit on me, I drunk texted Cas and then everything else after that just…was a complete rollercoaster.”

“Is that _all_?” she asked sarcastically but with good humor. “That’s like a whole freaking chapter of a book you made me miss out.”

Pulling out his phone, Dean handed it over and showed Charlie the messages and after she gained a considerable understanding of what was happening, she immediately started punching his arm.

“Dean Winchester, you are unbelievable!” she tugged him into a tight hug after listening to the voice notes one after the other. “I am so proud of you for coming right out and telling him. But you should have said something to me. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this to happen? Like forever and the worst part is, I knew something was going on with you and I couldn’t understand what the heck it was. I kept thinking that it had to do with Cas but I just didn’t know that it was _this_ amazing!”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t amazing,” Dean admitted after remembering the feeling of drowning in his denial. “Most of it was painful and I cried a shitload of tears but after I almost kissed him the other night—”

“Dude, what?” Charlie sprung up from the bench and immediately collecting his shoulders, she stared at him in bewilderment. “You almost kissed Cas?” when Dean wrinkled his nose, she gasped, spun around on the spot in excitement and clamped her hands onto parted lips.

“Yeah, don’t look so happy about it because I haven’t even said the famous three words yet but he’s so good at reading me that he knows by now. And the worst part is, I think he’s kind of waiting on me to say it.”

“Of course, he is, Dean!” she sat on the bench again and reached for her friend’s gloved hands, afterwards squeezing them as their eyes met. “I mean, actions speak louder than words but almost all of us want to hear the person we love say something along those lines. And with the way the two of you look at each other, that’s more than enough for him to know what’s going on but still. Cas deserves to hear those words after he told you exactly how he feels.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed and shrugged because it was like one heavy weight after another resting on his chest and deserving to be lifted off, “so you’re not mad at me for laying back on the truth…”

She didn’t seem offended or troubled but rather overwhelmed enough to forgive him. “Nah, you’re entitled to keep your own secrets until you feel comfy enough to tell me. I’m glad you told me though because I was going to like…lock you two in a room until you confessed your feelings.”

Dean chuckled and thought about the actuality of such a thing occurring and what the outcome would have been like. “Seems like everyone wants us to end up together. I kind of feel like I walked into a party wearing a clown mask and didn’t know it until I looked into a damn mirror. And the worst part is, even my dad knows. Like son of a bitch, I thought he’d be the last to know but he practically wants to walk me down the freaking aisle any day now and he keeps throwing these hints at me.”

“Like?” Charlie laughed heartily as she bundled up a ball of snow by her boots.

“All week, I’ve been practicing on my guitar and he keeps asking me if I’m writing a love song for Cas. Or when I’m baking cookies or a cake, he asks me if I’m baking it with love for Cas. Or…” Dean’s cheeks dusted pink, “this morning before he left, he was like ‘call Cas and invite him over so the two of you can spend some quality time together’. I mean, like damn.”

Charlie threw her head back and laughed, her pink beanie almost slipping off. “At least your dad’s accepting of it. Some parents are douches. And you’re playing your guitar again? Major Swiftie mood going on there!” she smiled at him and dabbed at her eyes. “So, _are_ you working on a song for Cas though?”

“First thing I did when I picked up the guitar was that, you know, dabbling around with some songs I remembered. And yeah, I keep going back to my girl Swift, but there’s one song that I really want to play for him. And I hope I get a chance to because it explains so much. By the way, I want to show you something. Come on.”

The two of them entered the house and after tugging their boots off, their socked feet padded upon the floors as they rushed upstairs. Then collecting the guitar from his bed, Dean handed it over to Charlie and she slowly took it as if the instrument was a delicate flower, green eyes widening in awe.

“Dude, you did these designs? I love the stickers!” she ran her fingers across the inked patterns ranging from ACDC to Taylor Swift’s album names.

“Turn it around,” Dean said softly, admiring how mesmerized she was by something that he never really exhibited to anyone else.

After Charlie did, it was then when she cast her eyes upon his neat handwriting that would have etched quotes which inspired him years ago. “There is nothing greater than music, because that’s the language of our hearts,” she read softly. “I like that one. This is like so cool because when I’m holding it, I feel like I’m not just holding a guitar but a part of you that means so much like an old friend, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean rested his palm on her back and pointed at a particular line that was not written by him, “read that one. And after you do, I’ll tell you something that I only figured out yesterday.”

Charlie instantly realized that the writing style differed from the rest of words. “ _Heaven_ by Bryan Adams. But who wrote it if you didn’t? Sam?”

“Nope,” Dean collected the navy-blue guitar case and opened the flap, then he revealed the same handwriting to Charlie who immediately gasped. “Cas gave me this as a gift for my twentieth birthday.”

“So, he just randomly wrote the name of a song on your guitar? Dude.”

“Not just _any_ song though. He knew that I liked Bryan Adams a lot. And it’s not just a random song. It’s _the best_ love song ever,” Dean confessed after returning the case to the bed and sighing. “I listened to the lyrics over and over again since I realized that. And man, it’s…look, if Cas claims that he’s been in love with me for five years now, it pretty much means—”

“That when he gave you this as a gift," Charlie hugged the guitar and plopped onto the bed, eyes shining. “He was actually thinking about you in a crush way. Can you even imagine what it must have been like for him to actually realize that he had feelings for you like since then?”

Dean pushed his black framed glasses up his nose and afterwards, folded his arms whilst pondering on the moment again. “I remember when he gave me the guitar actually.”

“You do?” Charlie could only display the most intense fascination by such news. “What was it like?”

“Well, it was pretty messy, to be honest,” Dean sat on the bed beside her and frowned. “There I was, about to blow out the candles, and I remember looking around for him, realizing that he wasn’t even there at my birthday party. Then just as I kissed Lisa, he walked in and he was staring at me. Like he just wouldn’t stop, man. And afterwards,” Dean tilted his head as the memories rushed back, “I went looking for him outside and I remember how weird he looked, like he was upset about something. He didn’t even hug me. And I just…” shaking his head, Dean swallowed hard, “it was the worst birthday ever because he…left and didn’t come back until a couple days after.”

Charlie rested her head onto Dean’s right shoulder and sighed. “Didn’t you like…pick up something though? I mean, there must have been something that made you think…hey, maybe he’s into me…”

“Not really, you know.”

Charlie dabbed at her eyes and squeezed him into a hug. “Dean, I’m actually freaking relieved that you feel the same about him because if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t just end up losing your best friend. But you’d also break his heart and Cas doesn’t seem like the type who loves easily.”

Her words lingered in the air a long time after she left, even whilst Dean stood in front of his closet and debated on what to wear.

This was the first time he was going to venture into the Novak’s estate after so many years ago and this time, everything had changed. The colors were brighter around him, simple things suddenly contained so much meaning like lyrics and poetry. Books no longer felt like best friends but constant reminders of what could occur along the way in terms of love. Long forgotten was Netflix because wasting time watching shows and movies didn’t seem so worthy instead of messaging Castiel and entertaining many thoughts about him. And most of all, Dean was suddenly very conscious of his appearance as he pulled out three shirts and then settled on a long-sleeved thick grey sweater.

After locking the doors, the warm winter coat bundled up around him, he traversed the path leading from one house to the other and along the way, Dean’s heart lifted inside of his chest. Anxiousness and nervousness, a sense of feeling somewhat disappointed that he never really crossed that particular path in so many years, immediately highlighting that along the way, his bedroom window remained visible. This probably meant that every single night when he sat in the window seat and gazed at Castiel’s form disappearing down the path, the older man if he glanced behind him would immediately discover the profile of Dean by the curtain.

As he stood on the porch too, after using the brass knocker in the shape of angel, hands buried in his coat pockets, Dean considered the Winchester estate a lot smaller in the distance and wondered if Castiel would gaze across the distance with an empty feeling inside of his chest. Maybe he did over the years, or maybe just the sight of the estate across the moor excited him enough to cover the distance in long strides as he so often did without bursting a sweat. But the most enthralling feeling of all was knowing for certain that behind the older man’s determination, was his absolute love.

When Castiel opened the door a few inches, he peered outside and after highlighting the owner of bewitching green eyes, those blue ones immediately sparkled. “Dean!”

“Hi, Cas,” tilting his head, the younger man offered a warm smile and an intense gaze was enacted, one that intensified enough to steal the smile from their faces. Dean though, cleared his throat and glanced into the mansion that was already promising an abundance of warmth. “You going to let me in or what?”

“What did you bring?” Castiel spied the red plastic bowl and tugged open the door wide enough as the wind gushed in and sprinkled snow onto the dark maroon colored carpet. “Please don’t let it be anything containing high cholesterol because I’m actually a high critique of my weight these days. Can’t let this…” he patted his midsection whilst smiling, “…extend at all.”

Dean, after stepping inside, handed over the baked goodies and admired the older man as he lifted up the bowl and sniffed. “Go ahead and eat them all if you want, you vanilla junkie.”

“Cookies! How delightful. Thank you ever so much,” locking the door behind them, Castiel led the way and was completely unaware of his entire attire being carefully scrutinized by green eyes. “I didn’t know that you took up baking again. I remember that you used to spoil me with your cupcakes many years ago. You can hang your coat here,” he gestured at the rack where the famous trench coat presented quite a mischievous thought inside Dean’s mind after wondering if he hid it, what Castiel would do.

“Well, I kind of started back baking and cooking and uh, playing my guitar.” After his gaze rested on the gigantic living room, swelling with warmth and an abundance of soft brown leather chairs, Dean could not refrain from appearing quite astonished. “Cas, this place is like walking into a freaking fairytale castle. Is that Loch Laggan?” the tapestry above the large fireplace was beautiful and complemented the dark mahogany walls.

“Yes, I admire your familiarity with the scene. Then again, I’m not surprised since your mind is very much brilliant in all respects.” Castiel lingered in the middle of the room and gazed at Dean rearing his head in every direction trying to drink up the entire room. “I’m glad that you’ve taken up the guitar again. I miss when you used to play and sing at dinner.”

Those were the days when he would sit before the fire and strum away whilst their conversation comfortably prolonged enough to make every night special. When he was sixteen, young teenage romance consumed his days but would never quite be compared to the overwhelming feelings experienced whilst loving someone who he had known for all his life. That kind of love wasn’t normal; it was rare and because he was lucky enough to have it, he didn’t wish to ever let something like that slip away.

“Yeah, well, it’s like returning to an old friend,” Dean admitted as he walked past the older man and assessed the wide glass windows overlooking gardens that would be beautiful in summer with the White Mountains in the background. “This is some view.”

“I was actually here when I drunk texted you,” Castiel rested his hand upon the four cushioned chair facing the hearth bordered by a variety of rectangular stones and caged in with large logs. A fire was going but not too large; just enough to provide the large room with warmth. “Dean, I have waited so many years for you to come over here. This feels like a privilege to me.”

“Come on, it was bound to happen,” the younger man turned around and smiled, but his expression quickly changed after admiring Castiel’s handsome features coupled with his disheveled hair, red wool sweater and black tailored pants. “You look…” Dean’s lips remained parted as he stumbled for the words to continue. “Jesus, Cas. You’re…like a freaking Disney Prince. Are you a Prince?”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed as those blue eyes lowered and he shyly shrugged. “No. I’m afraid not.”

“Not for nothing, but you look different and I don’t know what it is but keep it up.”

“So, you’re asking me to keep on loving you, then,” the older man said softly, returning their eyes to an intense gaze that was always disarming. “Because that is the reason behind my contentment. I may not be a Prince but when I think of how fortunate I am to have you, maybe I am the luckiest man in the world.”

It was Dean’s turn to flush from the compliment and after twisting his left boot sideways and studying it, a warmth settled inside of his chest that was like a small fire. “You know, you used to say those kinds of things to me all the time and I feel bad because I never knew what you really meant.”

“No. Please don’t feel bad,” Castiel swallowed as his voice dipped, “I’m always generous with my compliments when it comes to you. So, are you ready for the grand tour?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “oh, hell yeah!”

The downstairs comprised of the grand living room, a dining room that matched the size and beauty of the former and then the kitchen quarters where the two cooks waved and were thrilled to be introduced to Dean. When he remarked on the neat rows of pans and well-organized ingredients on shelves, they gifted him with a chocolate éclair and he left with nothing but smiles.

The winding staircase was so beautiful and the bannister finely polished, that Dean marveled over such intricated details and the view down below. And when he finally stepped onto the second level, immediately casting his eyes on the large family portrait of the Novak’s, he remained there for a while as Castiel stood by his side. Their hands brushed, fingers magnetic and eager to entwine but instead, what was required most of all was a kind of nearness that achieved too much satisfaction.

He _needed_ him in ways that flourished his gut with fire, especially after the wild experience in the bathroom on the bottom flat at home, after his return from New York. Dean realized that pushing through the newfound feelings meant that his body was also responding in ways that suggested so much more. And because he wanted to be touched intimately the other man, he snatched any opportunity to do so.

“Your mom looks nice though. Your dad…not so much,” he guiltily leaned his shoulder closer and after becoming aware, Castiel rested a warm hand upon his back.

“Quite the opposite, if you can even imagine that. My father was a very nice man but was driven away into the arms of another woman because of Naomi’s wrath. You see, she was very rigid in everything, and discipline was her forte.”

“She died, right?” Dean kept drowning from the heat radiating between them. It was almost like every single time he was near to Castiel, just a simple touch would be like becoming addicted to a drug and never wishing to be separated from it.

“Ten years ago, but not in this house. She met her demise in her sister’s home in Spain and I’m quite thankful that it didn’t happen here or else I’d have to live with the lingering thoughts of her ghost wandering the estate.” Castiel shuddered.

“But don’t you feel burdened by her still? I mean, you grew up inside this place so everywhere you look, you probably remember what it was like…”

The older man immediately shook his head and sighed. “Balthazar and I completely renovated the estate after she died. We changed every single thing about it and created our own spaces. He in fact resides on the upper left wing,” he pointed upstairs and to the northern side. “And I take up the right which, of course, allows me a very fine view of your house. Mind you, I can see you dancing in your window sometimes.”

“I don’t dance in my....” Dean started defensively and then his words died down, crossing his arms and feeling entirely self-conscious because he would from time to time whilst blasting any preferred music. “Have you been spying on me, Cas? That’s like our very own version of Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong with Me’. It’s kind of cute.”

“You’re…cute,” Castiel said softly, cheeks dusting with color as he stared up at his family portrait.

"You're cuter," Dean said in return, "and sexier and the age gap pretty much keeps turning me on now."

"Really?" clearing his throat, the older man stared at the painting without locking eyes. "So you fancy older models of cars then?"

"Those are the ones that are worth a fortune. I wonder what you're like in bed."

"What?" Castiel's voice became softer as a gaze was enacted and through that connection so much surprise was presented which signaled that he wasn't prepared for such a statement.

"Are you…a bottom?" Dean teased, his tongue running ahead of him and a generous amount of butterflies filling his chest. "Are you…going to let me take control? Are you loud in bed? I think you're loud because—"

"Dean…" swallowing again, the older man's chest heaved, "if you continue like that…you might just find out. Hmm?" the silence that followed was filled with widened green orbs and heavy beating of hearts. “Um, so…the brooding brother is Michael, he’s the second eldest and the one standing next to my father. Obviously, that is Balthazar next to Naomi.”

“He was actually good-looking since then. How long ago was this photo done?” Dean was still admiring the older man’s bold statements that covered him in a soft blanket.

“I was seventeen at the time so twenty-eight years ago. Gabriel, you’ve never met him or Anna, they’re sitting on either side of me. I believe you met Michael a long time ago but you might not remember him clearly since you were younger than six.”

“Cas, if I met you at seventeen, I’d probably have the hugest crush on you. You were…” Dean gazed at the younger version of the man standing by his side and abundantly admired the softest features on a handsome face of an obviously awkward nerd.

“You know, you keep trying to compliment me but you’re failing every single time,” Castiel’s voice hoarsened. “And I’m just hanging onto the silence that follows, hoping that you’ll say something else….”

Dean gazed into blue eyes that appeared mellow after connecting with his emerald ones. His fingers twitched from resisting the urge to just reach out and touch the older man’s arm and perhaps it was rather unfortunate that restraint wore thin after a few seconds.

“I’m not supposed to hold my breath, but I am because…well, I’m just madly in love with you and—”

“You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life,” Dean said instantly, the brown walls around them climbing high and offering a sense of warmth from the cozy feeling lingering in the spaces. “Cas,” he brushed the older man’s cheek with cupped fingers that trembled slightly from still being unsure of how to attempt certain affections. “I keep stalling because I feel like there are no words that would ever describe you perfectly. And maybe I hate that I can’t because you’re more than…handsome, or amazing, or beautiful or…even an angel like I used to call you over and over again when I was younger.”

Castiel chuckled as his cheeks dusted pink, “yes, I remember the nickname along with huggy bear and sunshine. And thank you. I’d rather you declare those things to me instead of feeling unequipped by the English language. I’m the kind of person who would rather someone convince me through words and then accompany those words by actions.”

When the older man produced the truth between them, Dean’s immediate reaction was a sense of shame because he understood quite well enough that the target was placed on his inability to come right out and confess what Castiel most wanted to hear.

“Anyway, let me show you my gym in the hopes of you feeling motivated to use it in the future…”

"I'm screwing this up already, aren't I? Like I always do," Dean struggled to breathe, and he produced so much conflict on his countenance. "I always screw love up, which is why it never really worked for me."

"Stop," Castiel said in a softer tone, "Dean, stop. Don't you dare think like that. You're not screwing this up. You're doing every single thing right and I'm just overwhelmed because I don't believe that it's true."

"What's true? My feelings?"

"No, the fact that you choose me, when there are a million other options out there—"

"I don't…want…anyone else," Dean's voice cracked and he stared back with tears filling his eyes, "okay? I just want you because you make me happy and it's like…I've been holding my breath for so long, wondering what my definition of happiness is. I kept thinking maybe it had to do with my studies and my job, and being normal. But it's not that. It was never that. It's always been…saying it, admitting it. That you… _loving_ you…makes me…" when he realized that it all slipped out so easily, and blue eyes brimmed with tears, Dean inhaled deeply. "You're my happy place," he said softly.

"I'm going to embarrass myself by crying, every single time you use speeches like that."

"Then I'll just pause and let you show me your gym," gesturing to the other end of the corridor, Dean smiled. 'After you…"

He trailed after Castiel's blushing face, the feeling of falling short settled on him like a cold net. He most desired the ability to speak freely but as of recent, those restrictions arose from the fear of being judged and not liked as much as he thought he was.

Those thoughts quickly were chased away when Dean entered a large room that was bordered by windows offering a spectacular view of the moor and surrounding forests. Two treadmills were strategically placed to overlook the gardens and every other piece of equipment seemed a little more enticing after Dean pictured Castiel working out on them. And maybe his mind was wandering too far but just the thought of the older man peeling off his shirt and exposing what Dean could only keep imagining thus far, there was nothing more enjoyable than savoring such thoughts.

“I’ll come over,” he admitted when Castiel studied his countenance carefully. “Just as soon as this damn winter is over.”

“Balthazar still exercises despite the coldness, and he cranks the heater up too. But personally, I cannot achieve that kind of pleasure in a weather such as this. So, next year most definitely I will take you up on that offer unless you prefer to use the space all by yourself.”

“Don’t want you watching my abs as they develop,” Dean flexed his arms dramatically and with their gaze resting on each other, the older man simply waned his happiness and blinked slowly. “Cas, you keep looking at me like I’m a piece of steak.”

“The truth is, I don’t think I could focus with a shirtless _you_ nearby,” Castiel wandered to the door and pulled it open. “I’ll probably drop the weights and injure myself.”

“Ditto.” Dean followed and winked when blue eyes gazed back at him from the hallway. “By the way, where the hell is Claire?”

“Hiding, I’m afraid,” the older man’s shoes padded on the carpeted floor as he approached large double doors down the corridor that were lacquered and well maintained. “She’s been inside her room ever since arriving last night. And yes,” Castiel turned to offer Dean a painful look, “I have always kept a room specially for her for many years now. She seems to favor it most definitely. This…” pushing open the doors, he wandered ahead and turned to assess Dean’s reaction, “is my library.”

“Jesus,” the abundance of wonder was immediately delivered as he slowly stepped into the largest collection of books he ever cast his eyes on. “Cas, this is…holy shit. It’s bigger than the public library! How many books do you even have in here?”

“I’ve lost count after half a million three years ago. Do you see what you’ve been missing now?” Castiel’s voice dipped as he admired Dean wandering into the first lane with shelves climbing as high as fifteen feet. “All of these titles are just waiting on you and yet your decision to avoid this place like the plague…”

“At least I’m here now,” Dean pointed out, extending his arms and disappearing in the shadowed depths of the library but his voice still emanated from within. “Speaking of which, do you come in here often to read? Or do you take the books up to your room?”

Castiel drifted to a small cozy space on the eastern side, just near a large window that contained a comfortable looking armchair covered in red velvet. “I take them up to my room and snuggle under my blanket. Alone. But then you know what that feels like.”

“Don’t you have your pillows as company?” came Dean’s voice, muffled from between the shelves. The scrape of a book being pulled off the shelf followed.

A table on the right provided a resting place for a very lovely lamp and after he switched it on, the older man awaited the appearance of Dean, hands behind his back and a look of absolute adoration on his face after soft laughter followed from somewhere in the middle of the room.

“As you’d rather have me as your pillow, I’d rather have _you_.”

Soft footsteps still sounded from the dimly lit depths.” You actually have books about folklore in here? Man, this is awesome. Guess where I’ll be spending most of my holidays now?” Dean slowly appeared and smiled widely as he approached Castiel who was blushing intently from guilty reasons.

“I hope that you abide to that promise.”

“This is where you come to read sometimes, huh?” green eyes swept over the small setting that offered nothing but coziness and a sense of warmth. He flipped off the lamp then turned it on again, the soft glow warming his green eyes.

“No,” Castiel returned softly and gazed back as the younger man studied his face, “this…is actually a place I created for someone very special to use but unfortunately, I only keep hoping for that day to come.”

“Who?” Dean frowned deeply, lightly caressing the smooth velvet of the chair and then returning to the intricate design of the antique lamp. He examined the feel of the shade made of a material that reminded him of a Monarch butterfly wings and believed that he could actually become immersed in inanimate things from time to time.

“I did this for you, Dean.”

When their eyes met instantly, green ones glistened with tears and after weakly drawing nearer to the older man, Dean gazed back in awe. He couldn’t believe how fortunate he was to capture someone who cared so much about him; someone who looked at him like he contained the world in his eyes and the answers to so many questions.

When Dean realized in that moment how he was treasured by Castiel and possibly on the receiving end of an abundance of love even he could not match, his footsteps led so close to the one person he fell in love with easily. The one person he didn’t even have to try to understand the depth of such feelings for a long time because loving him was like returning home to a safe and warm place where everything felt magical and surreal. And after all the years spent deliberating on their friendship and where the road would take them eventually, they were finally understanding why love was beautiful.

"Thank you for all you've done," Dean said, and reaching for Castiel’s hands, he slowly entwined their fingers as if carefully trying to test the waters between them. As if he was wondering how the simple touch would gravitate them closer. And when the older man’s parted lips revealed how mesmerized he was from the intimate gesture, he closed the distance between them.

"Don't thank me. I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?" Dean rested their foreheads together gently, and after he wound his arms around Castiel’s waist, the older man gazed back at him with nothing but openness and love and admiration.

" _Anything_."

"Like what Meat Loaf said in his song?"

"Yes. Dean?" Castiel's warm breath brushed Dean's face and instantly their eyes became clouded by desire, their chests heaving, hearts racing.

"Yeah?"

"I'm picturing you naked. Is it too soon to admit such a thing? I'm really and truly trying to make things up as I do."

"Actually it's the right time. How do I look?" the younger man smiled, tongue tucked between his teeth, "humor me, Cas. What are you seeing?"

"Flawless skin, so smooth and beautiful and radiant," Castiel danced their lips closer, his words slipping into a softer tone, "the contours on your back like planes I just am eager to traverse…my hands…are dying to touch you. My fingertips are aching to feel you. All of you."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean croaked when their bodies pressed together and added a sense of touch to those words, "you're so poetic and it's turning me on." Eyes closed, he rolled their foreheads together, noses brushing and then just as the world was exploding, he raked his fingers up the older man's back and through soft, dark hair.

Delicately, at first, they brushed their lips together, lips that trembled slightly from the first feel of absolute bliss on both sides, and maybe nothing else in the world mattered at that point but the two of them. Dean could feel Castiel’s heart beating wildly inside his chest, and he couldn’t decide where he began and where he ended anymore. The spaces inside of his body were radiating and there were no boundaries, almost as if he was blending with Castiel, and overflowing into each other’s souls and melting.

Just the absence of distance caused Dean to latch onto their lips meeting again softly, but he was terrified and anxious at the same time. A small part of his mind tugged back and a large part pushed him just enough delve into the moment a little more but Castiel just would not comply.

At first, Dean thought that he was possibly imagining the inability to capture the older man’s lips into a kiss but then the actuality of being teased was far too obvious. Castiel kept purposely tormenting Dean until he felt as if he was suffocating even more and the warmth between them turned into fire. And staring into blue eyes as if trying to search for the reasons why he could not claim that glorifying moment, Dean only gazed into honest pools of love as abundant as the sky and beautiful in every sense of the word.

“Why are you doing that?” he hoarsely asked, trying to drift their mouths together but being deprived of the opportunity to claim the best part of his dreams. “Dammit, Cas. Kiss me—”

“We’re being watched,” the older man whispered, immediately pressing their cheeks together and enveloping Dean into a tight hug that completely revealed how aroused he was and it was so tempting that he wished for no intrusions but couldn’t chase Claire away.

She kept lingering by the partially opened door as if becoming quite gratified by the intimate scene and after the two of them pulled apart and Dean sought out the annoying disturbance, he groaned, hands falling to his sides.

“You suck,” he pointed at her, face flushed and drowning as Castiel still remained near with no space between them because it was like they couldn't untangle themselves after initiating that bond.

“Next time, lock the door,” she returned, arms folded and chuckling. “And I’m actually so damn happy to know that the two of you are finally screwing—”

“Claire,” Castiel’s deep gravelly voice immediately settled the mischievous grin on the young woman’s face. “Please be respectful.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes and pleaded with Dean for understanding because the two of them were a lot closer than her father’s relationship which was still strained. “I’ll meet you two downstairs. Don’t take long.” And after pulling the door shut, her footsteps faded away.

They turned to gaze at each other intensely again, and because they were completely aware of what closing the distance would lead to, Castiel extended his hand with a shy smile. After Dean entwined their fingers again, he chuckled lightly as his face grew warmer and still the uncomfortable feeling rested inside his pants.

If he was uncertain about the older man’s package, the evidence was abundant after casting a longing glance. On the prior occasion of returning from New York, he deliberately assessed such things. Now though, it was all there in a tighter tailored pants, the definite line of the older man's cock resting just by his left hip. He was absolutely aroused and couldn't conceal it. And because Dean was so mesmerized by the instant desire welling up inside of him from checking another man out, after doing so, he returned to the window and pushed the heavy red curtains aside.

“You thought about what you’re going to say to her?” he splayed his fingers on the cold glass and allowed the numbing feeling to dull the ache inside of his body. “My advice is to stick to the truth. I’ll help you as best as I can but remember I’m not too aware of everything that went down.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware,” Castiel’s hushed tone forced the younger man to turn around and after he did, those green eyes wandered to blue ones shifting away uncomfortably. “Dean, I’m rather anxious about this meeting. Can you distract me?”

“I was _trying_ to distract you earlier. But you kept turning me down, remember? And by the way, you wear too much clothes. How many layers do you have on now? Four?”

“Would you like me to take them off for you?” The mischievous glint in blue eyes was so sudden and distracting. “I could finally show you my tattoos.”

“You…don’t…” Dean shifted uncomfortably by the window and felt for the glass behind him, pressing his fingertips onto very cold kisses from the snow outside, “no way do you... Don’t lie to me.” He started hyperventilating from the pique of his curiosity. “Do you have tattoos for real? How many, Cas? Fuck.” He clamped his hand on parted lips and stared back. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out. Wouldn’t happen again.”

The moment was so adorable to Castiel and very reminiscent of Dean’s younger days that he actually chuckled from the innocence. The times when a wide-eyed boy as young as nine would actually apologize for every small thing he considered as terrible, even after dropping his cutlery too loudly onto the plate were too fond to ever forget.

“I have two,” Castiel said softly after closing the distance between them, “One here,” he crooked his right arm and pointed at place above his wrist. “And the other on my back. None below my waist, mind you. So, false alarm and I do apologize.”

“I have two too,” Dean stared back into blue eyes and awaited the immediate scolding but the reaction he received was utter disbelief and an inability to form words. “Never told you because you would literally wring my ears. Both of them. But Benny and I just had a brainwave and we did it.”

“Right, the… rogue young man who constantly wished to lead you astray,” Castiel folded his arms and suddenly appeared mildly angered. “I never liked him because he was very bad company for you. And! He was also constantly attached to a bottle of whisky to which I disliked immensely. He was also attracted to you and I wish not to ever see the likes of him again or else I will become very jealous and territorial.”

“Don’t get judgy,” Dean actually thought that the older man’s expression was adorable. “And jealous. Besides, they’re just tattoos and I think you’ll like them. One’s a honey bee and the other one’s a cat—”

“Let me see!” Castiel rushed forward like an eager child and pressed Dean into the curtain as he tried to fumble with the grey sleeves of the younger man’s sweater. “I want to see the honey bee most of all please. Do not deprive me of such a thing, You are fully aware of how much I adore bees.”

“Dude, wait,” collecting the other man's hands into his own, Dean smiled widely and squeezed cold fingers between his own. “It’s not a bee actually. But don’t…” he pleaded when a groan followed, “…get all sad about it. I think you’ll like them. Here, let me show you one at least.”

Releasing Castiel’s hands with just a few inches of space between them, Dean slowly tugged the left arm of his sweater upwards. Just above his wrist, he displayed the words _Always Keep Fighting_ in cursive and it was the first time he ever showed anyone else his tattoo apart from Sam because of his constant attire consisting of long-sleeves.

The three words meant so much to Dean for various reasons but most of all, if he could remember correctly, a certain someone always kept insisting that he abide by the phrase. And that certain someone immediately rested their foreheads together, instantly aware of those fond memories ranging from Dean’s inability when he was younger to find his self-worth, or his lack of belief in ever feeling like he deserved to be happy.

“Better than the honey bee, right?” the younger man asked as Castiel collected his wrist and slowly caressed the words with his right thumb. His touch was so intimate, so slow and purposeful that Dean could not prevent himself from gazing between them. “The next most used phrase after _badly done, Dean_ when I was younger.”

“I remember. Now I just have to show you mine,” and after their eyes met, the older man stretched the bottom of his right sleeve and tugged the material upwards. Then after he turned his wrist to show Dean the exact words written in cursive; green eyes widened.

“Cas! What the…” collecting Castiel’s hand, Dean rested their tattoos side by side and stared. The handwriting was very similar if not the same and because he was craving to touch the older man, he carefully rubbed his thumb over every letter slowly, almost returning the favor.

“I actually got mine way before you were even born,” Castiel said softly, eyes latched onto the slow caress on his skin, “after suffering from depression and suicide when I was a teenager, the three words mattered a lot to me and I cannot recall exactly where I collected the phrase from but it has saved my life countless times. Surprisingly, I don’t believe you ever really noticed mine because my sleeves are always long enough to cover my wrists so…”

“You were the one who kept telling me to always keep fighting,” Dean whispered, impressed by the coincidence. “Jesus. It’s like…I was sitting on the chair debating on what the hell to get and then those three words just came to me. It’s been my life quo for years now, especially after being wrecked by two shitty romances. Man, this is just…”

“Something that soul mates would achieve,” Castiel finished in a soft tone, rubbing their noses together and chuckling. “And where is the other tattoo, might I ask? The cat.”

“I lied.” Dean pressed a soft kiss onto the older man’s nose and his eyes fluttered close as a small smile played on his lips. “I just have one because I'm such a baby when it comes to needles.”

“You've always been afraid of those, not kiss me.” Castiel warmly smiled as Dean pulled away his soft kisses and green orbs widened.

“Not until you show me your other tattoo,” Dean’s voice grew huskier after he began to drown in the actuality of the other man revealing whatever he was concealing beneath his many layers of fabric.

“I promise,” Castiel leaned in and whispered against parted lips, “that you’ll see exactly what I’m like very soon. But for now, we’ve revealed enough and we should probably begin the reconciliation session between me and my daughter.”

So much for believing that the levee could break and perhaps they would merely jump in with their blindfolds on. Groaning, Dean slipped out from between Castiel and the curtain and dragged his boots to the door. “My skin just burns. But in a good way, like maybe I have a fever and it’s all your fault.”

“Why is it my fault?” the older man followed close behind, quite energetic as always and flushed from their lips brushing in the library. After the two of them reached the top of the staircase, green eyes latched onto blue ones and sparkled. “Do you find what you see most admirable?” extending his arms and bowing his head shyly, Castiel smiled.

Dean scrutinized the other man from his disheveled hair to his polished shoes and sighed, chest falling slowly. And even though his intentions were obvious as his answer would be, he still prolonged the words from escaping. He continued to drink in every inch clad with clothes and just imagined what his world would be like if they pushed just a little until there was nothing else left. “Let’s just say you’re like a gift that I can’t wait to unwrap.”

Castiel stared back, lips parted as he fought to breathe and he slowly approached Dean who immediately leaned against the bannister, glancing back cautiously. “If you keep teasing me like that,” he said in a hushed tone, wounding an arm around the other man’s waist and tugging him in nearer, “I’ll definitely find it very difficult to concentrate around you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Dean said softly, gasping as their hips pressed together and the two of them fitted perfectly, blending like their warm breaths just before tasting each other’s lips. “Maybe all I want to do is…” he could only stare when Castiel collected his rear in a firm grip and pulled him even closer, this time they were so close that clothes didn’t seem to matter anymore. "Cas…"

"Do you feel that?" the older man asked hoarsely, his eyelashes fluttering, "our chemistry when we're together? I just…knew we could be like this. So…perfect and—"

"You're goddamn…hard," Dean felt the words rushing out in a heavy whisper as he clung to Castiel, fingers wrapped around his neck and rubbing their cheeks together gingerly. "You're literally blowing my mind right now, man."

Smiling into warm skin, the older man couldn't cease pressing kisses like butterflies landing on smooth skin. The scent of Irish Spring was heavenly, so toe curling and because he was drowning in those beautiful moments for the first time, he welcomed it. And the two of them revolved on the red carpeted landing as he pressed Dean softly into the brown oak wall, sandwiching him just enough to capture what he wanted.

Castiel was relentless, that much was obvious from the intense gaze, delving past disarming to completely controlling. From there, his hands sought out the younger man’s shoulders, pinning him like the most beautiful butterfly for those blue eyes alone to drown in. And he arched himself inwards, rolling their hips together before completely clinging to composure and marveling over how he was reacting.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, obviously breathless and dazed by the profound heat emanating from between them, the way their bodies just ignited from the passion burning up like fire.

Chest heaving, he tilted his neck a little as Castiel grazed his teeth teasingly across a very sensitive spot on the nape of his neck. And throwing his head back, the soft thud couldn’t even shake him awake as Dean drowned in the dizzying sensation of the older man tasting his burning skin and clearly determined to leave a mark afterwards. “I want you…” he said, completely breathless and his voice almost inaudible, “Cas—I don't know how as yet but…I just want you.”

“Those three words…” Castiel mumbled upon the other man’s neck, squeezing his shoulders and holding him steady, “say them to me.”

His world was spinning out of control, tipping so dangerously over the cliff until Dean could not breathe. And because their hips grinded together slowly, already creating a rhythm that was delicious and mind-blowing, he was too much out of control to even consider anything else. “I love…you—” he choked on the last word when Castiel bit down on his neck and sucked softly. “If we keep…going, we’re going to—"

“Guys!” came Claire’s shrilling voice from downstairs, “I don’t like to be kept waiting, okay? Stop making out and come down now!”

Snapping apart like two live wires, the two of them still breathless, gazed at one another longingly for a few seconds and as Dean’s shoulders remained hunched, he finally discovered something quite astonishing. The light blue that reminded him of the endless sky was replaced by a darker shade as Castiel obviously appeared quite unlike the very friendly, jovial man Dean entertained for years.

Instead, the passion that consumed him was far too evident from his clenched hands that slowly unfurled perfect, graceful fingers and the absolute look of…what was it? Dean studied the older man’s face and instantly determined that there was a deep longing to push further and unfold him like a flower, because after loving someone for so many years, after Castiel finally managed to capture what he wanted, there was a dying need to explore so much more.

Even as the two of them settled on the long table near the window overlooking the gardens, they could not refrain from eyeing each other intensely. Dean though, was quite aware of how much he was becoming physically attracted to the other man, that the absence of Castiel’s lips upon his skin now felt like winter was covering the fever that he was growing accustomed to savoring.

It was so terrifying to realize that throughout the years, he never craved his friend in such a manner, but suddenly the possibilities of finding privacy in each other’s company again seemed like the only thing he most desired. And after seating himself in between Claire and Castiel, the two of them facing each other across the table only covering four feet, Dean swallowed hard and turned to the young girl. At sixteen, she was fully equipped with many rebellious streaks and could not be separated from her black leather jacket.

“What?” those blue eyes widened. “Head still in the clouds, Dean?”

“Just wondering where you ran off to this time, you know, right before coming back here,” he returned with a smile, arms forming a triangle on the table’s surface. “Thought you didn’t have friends nearby?”

“Well, there’s something called _making new friends_. Besides,” sighing, she cast a glance at Castiel who was brooding and offering up the most adorable expression, “it’s not like coming here was easy for me.”

“But you did anyway,” Dean nodded slowly, “and if you don’t mind me saying this, I’m really proud that you’re here. I don’t actually mind that you’re nearby now. In fact, I can’t wait to start teasing you again.”

“Ha ha ha,” she said sarcastically, head dancing and equipped with a smile because neither of them could ever forget the days when fighting for jelly beans or trying to outsmart the candy vending machines in the arcade were golden. “Anyway, so I have a few things to say. I think I should go first.”

“Then by all means you do that,” Dean, completely impressed that he would not have to pressure either of them to take the lead, sat back and folded his arms. “And go easy on your dad,” he sent her a pleading look, “he’s a pretty nice guy.”

“Opinion biased much?” she raised her eyebrows and the two of them studied each other intently, then after turning to look at Castiel directly, the bluntness was delivered. “I can’t believe for one second that you didn’t know mom was pregnant with me. How can that even happen after the two of you were married and obviously around each other?”

Castiel swallowed after the tumble of words and sat up, the fabric of the deep red sweater bulging as he folded his arms. “We weren’t around each other constantly,” he said softly and then searched her eyes for any sign of hostility that had always been a bothersome trait Amelia possessed “After we were married, your mother and I took a trip out of town…” he glanced at Dean and the younger man recalled the story about how Claire was conceived. “We were married for just two months and suddenly on our way to Baltimore to visit her parents, she disappeared. She…became tangled up with the wrong crowd, and came across many bad people who used her—”

“She was hooked on drugs, you get the drift,” Dean eyed Castiel and then rolled his eyes, “trust me, she knows. Not that innocent like a cute cuddly baby. Go on,” he urged the older man with a small nod.

“Yes, she…Claire you must know that even before I met your mother, she was an addict and after struggling to rehabilitate her, the two of us fell in love along the way. I will not lie. I did love Amelia completely, so much that after she returned from rehab, I honestly believed that we could finally start moving forward. Until she moved here with me and located a dealer who started supplying her with drugs. Then, of course, everything spun out of control as she would disappear for days and weeks and come back angered by me trying to tie her down because of our marriage. You ask me how did I not know she was pregnant with you. Well, the answer is simple but painful. Amelia simply hid the truth from me until she could not tolerate what was happening and shortly after returning here, severely overdosed and weak, her friend rushed her to the hospital where labor had to be induced because of her condition.”

“So, I would have died?” Claire stared back in awe and when she finally assessed the consequences of her mother’s lifestyle, her cheeks colored.

Castiel nodded, expression strained as he struggled to maintain composure and Dean gazed at the inner war of emotions and crumbled. “You would have,” the younger man contributed although he wished not to intervene. “It’s scary when you think of it.”

Claire’s eyes filled with tears and she seemed to be also battling her feelings, tugging at the sleeves of her leather jacket. “I still don’t get it. Why would he…leave me at the orphanage after knowing that I was his? I only had you left” she turned to offer a pleading look at the older man, “Why would you just abandon me like I meant nothing to you?”

“Claire, I felt like a failure,” Castiel’s voice cracked, his complexion paling considerably, “after I could not even save your mother, I thought that I could save no one else. And at the time, my mother was entirely convinced that the marriage was disastrous and she would not allow me to bring you into his house. My mother wasn’t a nice person,” he weakened from his daughter’s tears staining her cheeks. “You would not have liked her very much. And I’m glad that you did not have to suffer under her care that is why I pleaded with Jody and Donna to take care of you because I knew them for many years. I knew that they would do the job splendidly.”

“Maybe I just needed my dad to do that job, regardless of a…terrible grandmother.” Wiping her face with the sleeves of her jacket, Claire’s gaze rested on Dean. “You get what I’m saying, right?”

Although he really didn’t wish to supply an answer, the younger man sighed. “Honestly, I get both of you. Mostly you, Claire because you just really wanted your dad who was your own flesh and blood to be there for you. But after hearing your dad talk about his mother,” he studied Castiel’s fatigued face and softened, “I don’t think staying _here_ would have been that good. Look, Jody and Donna are fun, loving and amazing and no matter what, I’m sure that you had plenty of good times with them, didn’t you?”

She nodded and glanced at her father who considered her with a look of utter regret. “Yeah, we had loads of good times together. Even when I found out my dad was right here in town when I was like ten, I still couldn’t understand why he didn’t even come over and talk to me.”

“Cas kind of felt like you’d hate him if you knew what happened,” Dean admitted softly, “you know, it’s one of those situations where you did the best you could considering the circumstances and still the guilt eats you up. I don’t think he could just walk in there and look at you because he’d remember what happened.”

“I hated myself,” Castiel suddenly said in a voice that sounded too small and too weak as he dabbed at his tears. “Dean, you described exactly what happened to me. It was the guilt from what I did by abandoning you which kept me away for so many years. And it wasn’t easy for either of us because we kept blaming each other instead of trying to resolve the problem.”

 _You never abandoned me, though_.

Dean guiltily thought about that and settled into a mood of uneasiness because although there was so much to understand from what occurred many years ago, he didn’t feel privileged to grow up in Castiel’s care whilst his own daughter suffered from abandonment issues. It wasn’t fair to feel somewhat treasured and loved and then gaze into those rebellious blue eyes of hers and realize that he was showered with what she should have received. And although Dean returned the favor several times over the years by becoming her friend, he didn’t wish to ever be seen in her eyes as the one whom Castiel comforted above anyone else.

“You know how many times I wished for a dad when I was a kid?” Claire wasn’t angry anymore but just saddened by the absence of years lost. “When I found out that my dad was this rich dude who lived in a castle, I thought something was wrong with me or I did something really bad, that’s why you didn’t want me. Every single Christmas when I found a gift under the tree from you, it would be the most amazing moment of my life because I’d feel special knowing that you cared a little. It sucked that Jody and Donna were so nice to me all the time, and I still felt empty inside.”

“It’s perfectly understandable if you hate me and cannot ever forgive me,” Castiel studied his fingers laced together on the table as Dean weakened from the abundance of tears wetting the older man’s sleeves. “I deserve that. After all, I could not even save your mother so why should I be considered as worthy?”

“Cas, don’t say that,” his voice hoarsened as he reached for Castiel’s cold fingers and gingerly caressed them. “The truth of the matter is that Amelia couldn’t take care of a baby even if she was there afterwards. You practically gave Claire her best chance which is what my mom did when she made Ellen promise to never let me and my brother grow up without a mother figure in our lives. Sure, you had no dad around,” Dean turned to Claire whilst Castiel entwined their fingers on the table, “but think about it; Jody and Donna combined are even better. And hey, I was there for you too. You remember when I used to take you for ice cream every Friday after school? When you used to be so afraid to ask for extra sprinkles and the two of us would walk right up to the counter and ask anyway?” When her eyes sparkled and evaporated the tense atmosphere covering the table. “At least you had one dude in your life even though you always called me a loser.”

“Yeah,” Claire chuckled as her cheeks flushed from the memories, “but you never were. You were so awesome and nice to me, even when I was a grumpy cat. And maybe that’s why I kept asking if you two got together as yet…” her eyes rested on her father, “because at least I knew that you were always there for me when my other dad wasn’t.”

“Your _other_ dad, huh?” Dean snorted because finally her intentions were sensible, “so you think I’m like a dad to you too?”

Claire’s cheeks colored as she slid off the chair and awkwardly shrugged, “it’s not so bad, I mean, you’ll officially be my dad someday so…” after wandering closer to Castiel who covered his tear stained face with hands that were moments prior holding Dean’s own, she slowly captured those same fingers and removed them. And after the two of them stared at each other for a long time, her face softened into a very forgiving countenance. “There’s a reason why I came back, you know,” she offered after he rose slowly and Dean melted from the unfolding scene. “I came back because I couldn’t live without you as my dad. I need to be with you because I keep searching for the bond we never had in other people and I can’t find it.”

“I want you to stay,” Castiel said softly, and slowly he embraced Claire into a tender hug that lasted for a long time.

When the realization kicked in that the pair would need some time alone to perhaps shelter each other, Dean slipped out of the living room and wandered into the other intriguing spaces of the mansion downstairs for a while. Leaving them in each other’s company was most beneficial because of the dire need to catch up on so many years lost. And it was the beginning to a beautiful future for both, because for the past sixteen years, Castiel yearned to be reunited with a daughter who only kept hoping that her father would learn to keep her.

In the _Financial Advisor/Accountant’s_ office, quite immaculate and well-organized as best suited for the character in question, Dean was just trailing his fingertips across the smooth surface of the desk when he stumbled upon a beautiful collage of photos.

At first, the collection astounded him enough to sink into the softness of Castiel’s brown leather chair and gaze at them one by one. Their smiling faces; him and his best friend over the years, sharing memories by the lake, on the front steps of the church, by the fireplace back home as stockings hung from a lopsided Christmas tree. The day when he was fully employed behind a lemonade stand in kindergarten and Castiel showed up, scooping him into his sturdy arms as John snapped a photo. The one time he acted in a play as a handsome prince and the older man stole his crown spray painted gold after the curtains went down, plopping the cardboard circle onto his head.

He had always been there, serving as the best companion anyone could ever wish for and to finally realize that life could become so magical for someone like him; Dean felt so special to discover love in the most unexpected place. A man who grew to adore, and fall in love with him over and over again.

If not for Dean’s slow awakening, his feelings growing clearer and stronger every single day, then the two of them would still be wading through the water, one completely clueless and the other immensely tortured.

When he studied the perfected alignment of Castiel’s pens, his stack of papers, notebooks, files and binders all labeled neatly, he wondered what the older man was like inside those four walls. Was he particularly bothered by people touching his things? Would he ever be comfortable with someone else sharing his space…preferably his bedroom? Did he even ponder on these things for a long time and grow accustomed to the idea? Did he wish for Dean to ever share his bed?

When his mind latched onto that last question, he realized with an almost ashamed feeling that he was quite aware of how his body was reacting to Castiel’s advances, but he did not consider everything else in detail. And most definitely, making love to a man or having a man make love to him would never be the same experience shared with a woman. Therefore, the need to indulge in deep thinking was necessary after that point, to perhaps conduct some research and actually entertain the idea.

But although he became rather uncomfortable with those thoughts because his mind fought against the beauty and splendor in becoming intimate with Castiel, he decided that nerves were expected. And for anyone, anxiousness would build up, however none of it deprived him of desiring much more between the two of them because when they were so close to each other, there were things Dean felt that he never drowned in before.

The rattle of the doorknob tugged him into reality again and as the door opened and Hanna walked in, he stared wide-eyed at her arrival. Then after scrutinizing green eyes coolly, she shyly entered Castiel’s office and greeted him with a beautiful smile as if they were quite familiar with each other for quite some time.

When he would have liked to familiarize himself with the likes of the woman, Dean still felt unsettled because of the confession by Castiel of entertaining Hanna in the hopes of erasing his feelings. And because he was still a little irritated by her presence in the estate still, he settled into the chair comfortably as if displaying his satisfaction on the turn of events.

She wasn’t triumphant in her obvious intentions; therefore, he favored his position in the matter, being the one who succeeded as the winner.

“I’m actually heading back to Michigan now,” she collected a folder decorated in a floral pattern from the desk and quite distinguishing from any of Castiel’s other stationery. “This is...um mine.” Holding it up, Hanna attempted to convince Dean that she claimed the right to files.

“Cool,” he studied her regardless of being quite aware that the tension between them was anything but friendly. “Safe trip back home, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Hanna smiled, dipped her head and after moving to the door, she stopped. “Dean, you know…” turning around to face him with a frown, a tentative step was taken into the room again, “...I’m not going to lie but I actually loved him first. I’ve loved him for many years, even before he married Amelia and…” tucking a few strands of hair behind an ear, she sighed as if immensely heartbroken, “I’ve always wanted to see him happy."

"Yeah, so have I…you know…for all my life."

He despised his reaction to the meeting but felt compelled to dwell in it because all the pain wouldn't have been provided if she stayed away. And because she searched those green eyes and recognized the slight hostility and pride swimming around in them, Hanna sighed.

"For most of his life he has been so lonely and so deprived of all the happiness he deserves and when he talks about you, he’s so...happy and radiant,” her eyes filled with tears. “I wish…I wish that you could hear the things he said about you; how amazing you are in every single aspect. And if you have any doubts ever about how much he loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you, then at least take my words as truth that I’ve known him since he was five and I’m a good judge of his character. He is the most incredible man. You’re very lucky, Dean.”

Dean could never have predicted such a speech which left him quiet for a few seconds. “Thanks,” he said softly, blinking slowly at her and remarking silently on her honesty. “I needed to hear that.”

“I know you did,” Hanna actually chuckled and her cheeks colored tremendously, “that’s why I said those things. And you know…Dean…to be honest with you, Castiel wasn't ever in love with me. I came here to visit, to sight see after so many years of leaving this place and we just met up back. I think…what he wanted was to confide in a friend and to spend time with me instead of you. He is the best man I've ever known. He's beautiful inside and out, he cares…so much about people he loves. He doesn't settle for less. He doesn't feel like he's worthy to have more. He is brilliant and compassionate and honest and open. There are things he's going to tell you about himself, a different side of him you'll get to see. But don't ever be alarmed by what he shows you because he trusts you to know the _real_ him. I've seen that side because I was here when his family fell apart and he had no one to turn to, but after Amelia…" her countenance registered anger, "she delivered blows on Castiel that no human should ever have to experience and she left him broken, so broken that he's still recovering. So, treasure him, love him, believe in him, hold him, don't you dare give up on him."

Tears were in his eyes, warm tears that plopped onto the desk and also accompanied a breaking and tearing kind of feeling inside of his chest and Dean simply nodded. He gingerly chewed his lips and nodded because she was just handing all of this information to him about Castiel's character and he never believed that she could trust him in such a manner. But generalizing her statements, the one fact that beamed from her disposition was her consideration for her friend, wishing him the best. And had Dean been in her shoes, thankfully he wasn't, he would have to deliver the same speech to whoever Castiel decided to choose as his wife, his spouse, his lover…someone who might not have been him.

He could have been delivering the same words to Hanna…

"Anyway, I should be going now, so...take care of him, Dean. Be gentle and treat him like the special adorable angel he is. Goodbye.”

When she left him inside the office, the only sounds were the slow thumps of his heart and the ticking of the black clock with white hands on the wall. And for a long time, Dean remained where he was simply lost in thought, guilty thoughts about his unjust judgment of Hanna’s character when she was merely trying to be the most admirable friend she could.

But then, was he supposed to feel triumphant when he was in fact depriving a wonderful man of a very promising life entailing kids and a wife and a beautiful home? Who was he to deserve such privileges when Castiel could share the estate with someone like Hanna who would provide for him in every way he couldn’t? Hanna could fill the home with a motherly glow that was lacking for years, could bring forth children that would brighten Castiel’s life because those children would be his own flesh and blood. And what could Dean offer but companionship as a proposed lover and abundant company with nothing else?

When he thought about these things, Dean became so uncertain of himself that he wished his body did not yearn for Castiel’s touch so much. If that was the case, then maybe he could proceed without becoming entangled with the other man easily, wishing Castiel the best of luck in finding another match and using his matchmaking skills to find a suitable partner. Someone who wasn’t so much younger, by twenty years now, someone who wasn’t so sheltered and introverted, who didn’t favor turtleneck sweaters and didn’t give off the appearance of a nerd with his black framed glasses.

“Making yourself comfortable, hmm?” Castiel’s low gravelly voice suddenly drifted from behind Dean and when the younger man reared his head, he detected that another door was directly next to the bookcase but quite concealed from the tapestry. “Tell me, do you wish for me _not_ to concentrate when I’m working? Leaving your scent all over my chair?” the older man captured Dean’s shoulders into his grasp and gently squeezed.

“Hanna just left,” Dean said softly, drowning into the slow massage he received that gradually curled his toes but he was still feeling entirely prickly because of his inability to understand his worth. ”She told me in summary that I'm lucky to have you and that I should never let you go."

“How grand it must be,” Castiel’s warm breath kissed the younger man’s right ear as he leant forward, “to be _the chosen one_.”

Dean chuckled and legs splayed out, he pulled himself closer to the desk and carefully ran his fingertip across the line of pens all labelled C. NOVAK. “Harry Potter reference, huh? Good one. What else you got up your sleeve, _Mister Novak_?”

“Fine lines of poetry which I will hold back on for the moment. I fear that…I may overwhelm you too much.”

“But that’s the purpose of poetry,” Dean said quietly, mesmerized by the low quality of the older man’s voice, “to overwhelm until there is nothing but a sense of rawness from too much exposure left. Poetry is supposed to peel back the layers and show us ourselves even when we can’t face what we might see.”

Castiel wandered to another one of his bookcases by the window and plucked out a forest green binder labelled **BANK STATEMENTS 2018-2019.**

“Dean, if you continue speaking to me so eloquently, I’m afraid that I may have to kiss you until you’re too breathless to stand on your feet.”

After parting the vast amount of files, those blue eyes narrowed for a considerable time whilst reading. And throughout his entire silence, Dean successfully cast a wandering scrutiny on the older man’s figure, really quite unaware of his thoughts until a warm sensation settled into his gut.

From there, he evidently realized that Castiel’s strategic position by the bookcase provided an attractive angle of his remarkably fit figure. And because his eyes were glued below the waist of the older man’s pants, Dean blinked and quickly diverted his attention to the clock on the wall.

He shouldn’t be admiring someone who deserved better, should he? He should be allowing himself the opportunity to drown in Castiel’s touch and warmth when he couldn’t even understand what it meant to breach those boundaries between them further.

“I’ve never slept with another guy, Cas,” he blurted out instead of silently thinking those words, and immediately felt a coldness wash over him from the ridiculous confession. “I mean, you’d _know_ that, right?” his short laugh was very much affected by nervousness. “Judging from what my past was like…with women.”

Castiel however, returned a gaze that was disarming and prolonged as the seconds slipped by and although Dean fought to reveal nothing in relation to his guilt, the truth was already hanging between them.

“Neither have I. One would think,” snapping the binder close, Castiel’s footsteps slowly padded on the carpet as he approached the desk, “that I may know a generous amount of what such an act entails. Considering that one of my brothers is gay and the other is…pansexual…” he settled the binder on the desk and smiled at the younger man, “but unfortunately, I’ve never been so inclined in my entire life to…dabble.”

“Wait,” Dean frowned because learning about the Novaks was always something that piqued his interest, “Michael’s pansexual?”

Castiel chuckled and shook his head as if entirely amused. “Gabriel is. Michael has a tendency of frolicking with women from all walks of life. And no, I haven’t experienced these feelings for any other man. The way I feel about you is quite...new to me. Your touch…” Castiel perched on the desk in front of Dean as he gazed at the watercolor painting by the door of a darkened moor, “…is so overwhelming. All I want is to be near you constantly. And that is not the way friends feel about each other.”

He couldn’t be friends with him though, that much Dean was certain of. Friends meant reverting to greeting each other with simple smiles and never brushing the curtains aside to reveal what resided behind them. Friends meant letting go of the thought of spending their lives together, and forcefully entertaining the idea of courtship with someone else. Friends meant that he would have to lie in bed at nights and try to persevere through his nightmares as actual touch was replaced with the ghost of Castiel’s hands and lips. And he couldn’t survive with a ghost wandering around his bedroom or his life or coming across the moor.

“When are we going to actually kiss, Cas?” Dean’s gaze wandered to blue eyes that slowly blinked at him, offering the most intense connection as was mostly done recently. “It makes me feel like you don’t want it. Like…you kept holding back and it’s driving me crazy, man. I can’t keep daydreaming about what it’s like.”

“Oh, you’re not ready for my kiss as yet,” Castiel chuckled and slipped off the edge of the desk, his cheeks coloring.

Dean though, was too impressed and too bruised by the response. “So let me get this straight,” he rose up from the chair and instantly missed the soft, warmth and scent embedded in the leather, “you kissed a bunch of girls in high school, even Donna, and the one guy you’re head over heels in love with, you’re giving me a hard time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the older man suddenly turned around and offered up a regretful countenance. Returning a file to the stack of neatly arranged ones on his desk, he closed the distance between them. “You’ve only just admitted that you’re in love with me and _that_ required a generous amount of coaxing.” Dean’s eyes flicked to the ground as he latched onto the toe-curling feel of Castiel kissing the nape of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly certain of how substantial are your feelings for me until recently.”

"Well mind, body and soul, especially _body_ is really in love with you. I mean, I…came…that night after coming back from New York, like I've never done before and I—" when he noticed the severe flush on the older man's face, Dean stopped. "Shit, I didn't mean to say that. That's…out of line."

"You mustn't apologize for speaking about how you feel," Castiel showed a beautiful smile, "you are not a child anymore and I am not just your guardian. I believe that we progressed a considerable stretch over the course of less than a week. Mind you, I'd like us to pace ourselves because this is quite new."

The chilly air drifted through the windows, danced the curtains and tumbled into the office like a group of ghosts, circling around Dean and lifting the pores on his arms. He stared at the reaction for a few seconds, wondering when the last time someone held him as tenderly as Castiel was and he fitted so perfectly with another human being. They were so beautiful together, so why couldn't he have noticed such chemistry before? Why had he been so naïve and blind to the most obvious attraction occurring between the two of them?

“Why me, Cas?” Dean asked in a low tone that reflected his inability to erase the doubts.

"Hmm?" the older man was perusing the folders again, his fingertips caressing the spines.

“Why are you in love with _me_? Huh? What could you see in me that—”

"Haven't I elaborated enough?" Castiel asked softly, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, but I just need you to keep reminding me because I don't believe I deserve an ounce of your damn love." His tone was a little too harsh and when he realized it, Dean settled onto the chair and an iceberg centered inside of his chest. "I’m not nothing special, Cas."

"Refrain from speaking such things to me, _Dean_ ," Castiel said in a small voice that was barely audible as the wind chimes outside the window tinkled and created a haunting ambience. "All my life I've proven how worthy you are."

"I don't deserve love—"

“The weather looks like we’re being promised a storm later,” Castiel wandered to the window and after casting his eyes outside, he presented his back to Dean who stared at him with a pained expression. “I wonder if your father and Bobby were successful in catching just enough fish to last a week or for dinner only. You know, there was once a fishing trip that provided enough fish for a month and after being terribly disgusted with the taste, your father sent the rest over here.”

Never before did he feel so whipped by the other man’s diversion in their conversation. Castiel would have achieved the same thing before flawlessly, but to rest on making such a decision in an intense moment, it was more than damaging. It was chaotic enough to crack Dean’s heart a little because he could not understand why the topic was so difficult to dwell on.

He couldn’t believe that their connection became so fragile, that one simple word misused could shatter the premise of what was built over the years. Had it not been for their recent revelation about their deepest feelings, then maybe cutting the conversation would be deemed as humorous; lighthearted and simple even. But in that moment, all that was experienced was a sense of coldness.

Dean reached up and wiped tears from his eyes that felt hot and scalding and it was only then when he realized that his hands were trembling.

“Cas, you of all people know that most times I struggle with my self-esteem. It’s why I kept thinking that I wouldn’t ever be in love because no one would love me. So humor me, Cas. Why me?” Dean tried again, his chest heaving as the butterflies flapped their wings in a cramped space.

“Why _not?”_ Castiel stared back in awe. “Why not you, Dean? Why would I choose anyone else? Why does my heart die every single time _you_ think that you’re not enough to me? Why do I cry myself to sleep when I honestly feel like you’re the one who doesn’t want me? Why on earth did I drink myself into a miserably numb state the other night trying to forget the way my body…wants you? I _want_ you, Dean. Jesus Christ!” he threw up his hands in disbelief and turned around on the spot, hand wiping his face as he stared out the window. “Is that what you wish for me to say to you? That I want you in every possible way there is for a man to want another man?” Blue eyes leaked abundantly from tears and after he crumbled tremendously, Castiel leaned onto the wall by the window, head bowed in shame. “Sex used to be something that I didn’t dwell on but with you, I am most compelled to think of it.”

“That’s exactly what I want you to tell me,” Dean’s throat ached as he fought to hold back the need to cry. “If we’re going to move past being friends, then we have to talk about stuff like that.”

“It’s not easy for you to talk about these things, Dean!” Castiel stared back in astonishment. “In case you forgot, you’re not very good at expressing your feelings as you’ve said to me before therefore, I’m trying my best.”

“Look, I’m sorry for being this way, okay? But I just want…to know things. I want to know what you want me to do. I want to know what you’re like in this…” he glanced around, “house… Where do you sit in the mornings to have your tea? Do I cross your mind when you’re here all by yourself and do you…” Dean’s voice faltered as he blinked through tears, “and you said on the phone…do you really touch yourself when you think of me? Did I ever make you…”

“Several times,” Castiel said softly, taking tentative steps closer as the office weighed down with so much sexual tension. When Dean’s lips parted, the older man examined the stunned expression and still closed the distance between them. He swallowed and held his breath, his disposition registering nothing but openness. “My hands wander, and I lose my mind thinking of you touching me, of you kissing me. And now I'm turning the situation into quite an uncomfortable one because we're speaking about sex and I cannot control how my body reacts when I think of you…touching me, so please, can we refrain from expounding?”

Dean stared back and his chest trembled from the actuality of someone else desiring him so much that his hands wandered when thoughts of him consumed the older man. His mind was really frightening him, the way it wound thoughts into words that escaped from his lips so easily when he would have favored secrecy. Asking Castiel if he touched himself was something that Dean never believed would become entangled in any of their conversations and here he was inquiring about such an act.

“It just makes me curious,” he admitted softly, realizing that he wasn’t the type of person who preferred to touch himself but would prefer if the act was accomplished by the man he couldn’t stop gazing at. They were just a few inches apart now but the distance was filled with the kind of intensity that deepened after every second slipped by.

“You ask me why I…choose you above anyone else…and the answer is quite simple, Dean,” Castiel hugged himself as he scrutinized the other man’s countenance. “You are the only person who understands me despite my flaws, my…incessant manner of talking and my obsessive attitude towards reading. There is no one else who fancies the things we both do. I quit searching for that person because I’ve always known that the best match for my wit and humor and downfalls is you. Just you, Dean and no one else. You’re capable of equally matching my temperaments in every aspect, putting up a challenge just enough to keep me leveled. You…always give me the benefit of the doubt, despite my inability to provide clarity in most situations. And above all, your heart is just…” Castiel shook his head and stared back in awe, “…beautiful, the way you love endlessly and effortlessly. Who wouldn’t fall in love with you, Dean? You’re everything to me and so much more.”

After digesting every single sentence slowly and understanding that he was on the receiving end of a speech worthy enough for an immediate answer, Dean struggled nevertheless to provide one. It wasn’t in his nature to pick up his composure so easily after dwelling on affairs of the heart. And when the very person he loved was his best friend; a man he knew for his entire life, the inability to believe that he could provide an adequate response was painful.

“Have I actually rendered Dean Winchester speechless?” Castiel stared back, absolutely impressed by the silence. “The young man who is always quick to offer a comeback.”

He _had_ indeed done such a thing, but the words seemed to float around the younger man without being absorbed through his shell and despite the overwhelming generosity of words and love, there were still doubts.

“I just think you deserve better than me, you know?”

Castiel sighed, and shook his head as if completely drained from the questions. “ _Dean_ , I think that’s enough probing for one day, don’t you agree? I’ve been ravished by my meeting with Claire and you’ve presented quite a few intense moments for me. Really? I’d like to rest my mind a little since my head feels heavy. If you don’t mind…”

"Told you I'd ruin this."

"You're not. You're simply gratifying disbelief in my admiration for your character. And it's not boding well with me."

"Damn nuisance I am, huh?"

"Dean!" Castiel turned around and stared, his fists clenched. "Cease the negatives. What have I constantly told you over the years? Override those with positives. In every situation, there is a rainbow. You always have a choice. And this isn't becoming of you. Badly done, Dean."

"What if I just want you to be happy and to me that means holing up with a wife and having kids instead of getting nothing but companionship from me, huh?"

"That's not your decision to make," Castiel said stiffly, "Dean, you cannot make such choices on your own when we are both factored into this equation—"

"It just feels so damn unfair, you know? Depriving you of so much more when fine, we've both imagined each other going separate ways and trying to make a home that's considered as normal. But together?" Green eyes were huge and staring, his fingers resting on the desk and rolling a pen around without being conscious of it.

"What's so wrong about us being together, Dean?" Castiel's tone was wounded, and he couldn't conceal his disappointment in the topic. "Are you so determined to push me away, despite your obvious recent reactions towards me? How you feel about me, does it disgust you to a point where you do not wish for anything more than friends? Is that it?" his eyes filled with tears and reaching up, he pinched the corners before nodding once and settling his stare out the window.

"I don't want to disappoint you, Cas." Dean studied the older man's back and he held his breath because there it was, his insecurities shining bright like a lighthouse beam. "I don't want us to jump into this and then I can't do anything right because I'm not seasoned—"

"I'm not experienced either!" Castiel fired back, spinning around and staring wildly. "Alright? I'm not…a fucking…" he lowered his voice considerably, "… _pro_ in any of this, Dean. You're aware of what happened with Amelia and all the other women who came after her were distractions. I've told you earlier that I've never done this before with a man but I would believe that since we've known each other for…an absolute amount of years, then we can adapt easily. But if this isn't what you want, then by all means come right out and admit it to me instead of prolonging my demise. Just be certain of one thing though, Dean," Castiel said, tears leaking from his eyes, "if you decide to walk away from this, I will never be able to recover and I'm not begging you to try. For goodness sakes, I'm not forcing you to do this with me. However, there is nothing else except you. And if I'm to lose you as I have you now, then I will perhaps have to…leave Littleton. For good, maybe."

When the actuality of what that would feel like pierced Dean's heart, he stared at the older man and swallowed hard before feeling hot tears leak down his own cheeks. No one, ever before, placed him so high on a pedestal that his reciprocation resulted in their happiness and completeness. When he thought about losing Castiel, he merely felt immense pain, so much discomfort that the answer was definite through all of the negatives; he needed to push the self-doubt aside and try, at least take this one day at a time in order for his feelings to evolve and everything to fall into place.

"I'm sorry I'm such a dick," he said softly when Castiel wiped his face neatly with graceful hands and sniffed. "Okay? I'm sorry I'm like this. I'm all in, hell, I don't think I'll ever be able to survive without you. So…" he inhaled deeply, "if we're in this together then we better stick to it because you're my ride or die, man. I'd rather have you."

"Great," the older man nodded, fixing the blinds idly and his chest heaved as he gazed outdoors where beyond the front porch, two black Bentleys were parked along with a black Mercedes Benz.

The silence that followed was dragged along with the ticking of the clock and Dean holding his breath still, awaiting another sentence, at least one more word. But nothing filled the air between them, but the evident disappointment on the older man's part because of his inability to gain confidence in their match. Possibly this was why people kept lamenting about the best love never being the easiest, because two people who were so perfect for each other would always doubt their bond. Through the first stages, just like them, they would come to terms with how perfect everything seemed to be, but still dwell on the possibility of all of it shattering.

“Look, I think I should go,” gesturing to the door, green eyes blinked back tears but Dean smiled anyway because he was completely happy and utterly conflicted at the same time. Suddenly, everything wrong felt right, and everything right felt wrong and the muffled doubts, the amazing memories and beautiful words spoken between them were so garbled together. “I’ve got some cleaning to do and then getting dinner ready for when those two return.”

“No, don’t go. Please stay with me a little longer,” Castiel turned around and stared, his countenance strained and worried all of a sudden, “or even better. I’ll walk you over and stay with you for the remainder of the afternoon.”

The thought was so tempting but then the strong pull of attraction between them was enough to daze his world as the time slipped by without effort.

“Yeah, and I’ll get nothing done because you’ll keep me distracted.” Dean gave the older man a wink before he retreated to the door and tried the knob. “Just…stay with Claire and talk to her. Watch a movie together. She’s your first priority right now and don’t forget that. Me? I’ll be around. Just a phone call or a walk away.”

“Dean, what does that even mean? You’ll just _be around_? I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Dammit, Cas, you basically just turned away from me and stopped talking, and now you’re asking me to stay?” But he regretted the manner in which he delivered the words immediately as the silence between them stretched out. "I don't know what to do."

“I’m do apologize,” Castiel said all of a sudden as tears filled his eyes and he could not appear but deeply affected, “I’m frustrating you. Perhaps you should leave then because we’re both going to overwhelm each other.”

“Didn’t mean to say it like that, Cas…”

“I know,” the older man said softly, and he sighed, hands falling to his sides. “This is what love does. It unwraps you and exposes your heart, a very tender organ that may become bruised even by a caress which was never felt before.”

Sighing, Dean slowly pulled open the door and he became washed over with quite an intense feeling of security and love. “I guess this is why I said everything changed between us,” he said without turning back, and smiling as a tear slipped down his cheek. “We’re talking to each other using poetry now. I’ll message you. Bye, huggy bear.”

He couldn’t see the disappointed look upon the older man’s face as he awaited a farewell that instantly sliced Castiel’s heart with pain like being struck with lightening. He couldn’t see when Castiel’s fingers unfurled and felt entirely empty with the spaces between nor could he even realize that those blue eyes softened with tears.

After Dean reached the door though, he suddenly stopped and literally crumbled from the hurricane swelling inside of his chest. The urge to cry was so necessary at that point because the two of them were riding on a roller coaster and he didn’t feel like the ground was steady beneath his feet. He didn’t understand why his world turned upside down and then balanced again when they were so close to each other. And maybe this was love’s first signs of changing his life completely, shaking the things he considered as normal into different places and about to challenge him in ways he could never imagine.

But he wanted all of it still because he would do anything to keep Castiel in his life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Excerpt:**

_Ellen sipped her cup of tea and smiled at the two budding lovers._

_“Come look at this, John,” she hastened the older man, and immediately drew him away from poking the logs in the fireplace. “I got to tell ya, we’ll soon have a wedding. And guess who will be planning that? Ain’t nothing better than having a little fun in Littleton since the last time we had a wedding was mine. And this wedding,” she jerked her chin out the window, “will be even better than any other one.”_

* * *

After scrubbing the bathrooms and sinks and working up a sweat to dull the chill in his bones, Dean barely managed to prepare dinner just in time before his father and Bobby came through the door. The two of them were exhausted and cold, warming their hands before the fire and after changing into fresh clothes, the hour of six struck. Castiel joined them for a wonderful pot of beans, roast chicken and rice, the former compliments of Ellen who showed up as warm as ever and radiant with smiles.

Then despite their deep, searching gazes and regret on both sides due to their earlier conversation, the two of them spared no words during the evening. Dean thought that he would have exhausted the words between them enough to provide another round and therefore, because he was too tired after his intense cleaning and preparations for dinner, he decided to retire to bed.

But apparently Castiel was also very wounded and determined that the younger man’s decision to leave the dinner party was his own fault.

"Where are you going? I’m sorry but the evening will be so dull without you,” he said as Dean reached the staircase and he followed closely, a cup of tea resting on a saucer. Their eyes met and green ones indeed appeared too tired. “Will you stay for just five more minutes with me?”

Dean’s gaze wandered to Ellen who studied him intently from the door leading into the kitchen. “Can’t. I can barely keep my eyes open, Cas. I’ll talk to you tomorrow after church.”

"Can I come up with you then? Is that too suggestive of me?"

Dean's heart warmed from the invitation but he shook his head. "You want my dad to start talking about us rolling around up there under his own roof? I don't think so."

"Perhaps we _can_ talk only. I'll sit on the window seat and you'll tuck yourself under the covers. I do like to watch you sleep, Dean. It comforts me—"

"Cas, I'm going to be out in five minutes tops…"

“All you have to do is come right out and tell me that you wish not to have me around you. You're obviously pushing me away and it…hurts and…well, good night then,” Castiel peered up at the younger man lingering on the staircase with a stunned expression and sighed. “I quite enjoyed the roast and must admit that I do look forward to your company tomorrow. Whether you like it or not. If I might also confess,” he smiled and lowered his voice, “I’m regretting the opportunities I had when I could have kissed you. Then you wouldn't have any doubts about us.”

"Cas, it's not what you think. I'm just coming out of a cocoon." After wishing that he could just reach out and caress the older man’s face, Dean kept his hands to himself. “I'm changing, okay? I'm now picking this up and trying it on. And it scares the hell out of me because you might think I don't want you around me, but it's not what you think. I'm afraid that if you come close to me, I'll lose control of myself.”

“Ditto. I love you, Dean,” Castiel said shortly afterwards, mesmerized by the fond name and eyes glistening in the soft glow of the lamps around them. “I love you so much that every step you take away from me makes my heart long for you even more.” The two of them gazed at each other. “I love…you more than myself.”

"And I…you, Cas.". No matter how Dean tried to return those three words though, he could not accomplish something that choked him. And he didn’t understand why the words were so hard to bring forth. Hadn’t he repeated them a million times before over the past twenty years or so, after his ability to speak provided him with the opportunity?

Of course, after hanging onto the silence between them, Castiel bit his lips. Then shaking his head and glancing at the two older men by the fire, he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. Anyway, up you go to bed.” And without sparing Dean another look of yearning, he returned to the chair by the fireplace.

Dean, after blinking back tears, weakly climbed the staircase and collapsing on his bed and reaching for the lamp, he turned it off and cried softly into his pillow, not really understanding why the tears came so easily.

Sam would have labelled his reaction as _super girly_ because he was always the tough one, being Sammy, the one who picked himself up and braved through breakups and emotions. Dean on the other hand was a little too mellow and now it was quite evident that his behavior reflected nothing but immaturity all over again, that he felt ashamed of himself. Coming up to bed to simply seclude himself from Castiel? When he was absolutely certain of the older man's dire need to talk to him, to be with him?

What was he trying to do?

Was he really and truly attempting to push Castiel away without even realizing it?

He didn't think that he deserved to be saved by an angel like the older man, to be loved and sheltered and given the world. He was far too damaged in ways that were too embarrassing to admit that the past felt daunting and poisonous at times. And because Castiel was proving to him that someone was capable of reaching in and wrapping a string of lights around his heart, taking up residence inside there without the intention of leaving; he was afraid and nervous and anxious.

"You're not going to screw it up," was Charlie's first statement after he voiced his woes and his eyelids drooped. "Listen to me, Dean Winchester, you is kind, you is smart, you is important. You is deserving of love. You is…Castiel's other half. The two of you _cannot_ survive without each other. And the sooner you realize that this is the beginning to the best fairytale of your life, you're going to calm the hell down."

"Okay, mom." He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling where once, so many years ago, the older man stuck stars that glowed in the dark all around the roof so that Dean's fear of the dark would become muffled. Now the imprints remained, like stars that would have burnt out because of time, and sometimes he felt like that, _burnt out_ in terms of love, because how could anyone find a sparkle inside of him?

"Stop overthinking it."

"How can I _not_?" Dean protested and followed up with a groan. "Dammit, he's older and sexy as hell. He's far ahead of me in life and he's obviously going to want things that I don't even know how to process as yet. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone like Cas. I don't freaking know how to touch him or…what the hell to do. Like I _want_ to so bad but then I get scared of screwing it up and I'm like…he could be doing this with some other dude who is far more experienced than I am."

Charlie sighed long and hard, studying her nails on the other end of the phone, nails chewed down from nervousness overtime.

"Look, I know I’m sounding ridiculous, okay?"

"You're _not_. You're making complete sense actually. I keep forgetting that this isn't something easy for either of you and it's going to be scary as hell to even think of what to do when you're not even sure. But Dean, think about it this way," Charlie said softly, trying to maneuver her way around the situation, "you're both on the same page as it is right now and I know what you're going to say…that he's loved you a couple years now and it means that he's comfortable with his feelings. However…Cas only had feelings for you. He never acted on those feelings and now for the first time, he's going to jump into this with you at the same time. The two of you are going to take a dive into experiences you never had before… _together_ , Dean. And because you have someone who's as inexperienced as you are, it's a lot better and it's less awkward."

Her words were always so reassuring that he wasn't certain what the absence of Charlie in her life would bring, most likely destruction and doom.

"You're a ray of sunshine to my gloomy days, you know that?" both of them chuckled. "I don't want to hurt him, you know?" Dean said, pinching the edge of his blue fleece blanket and feeling tears burn behind his eyelids. "He thinks that I'm doing this purposely…trying to screw things up, but I’m not. I've just been a failure in everything else but my damn studies and I don't want to disappoint the one guy I've always used as my role model. Like this is a win or lose situation and if I can't get my shit together, it's going to get messy."

"Then just push everything aside for a while and just focus on the fact that you actually have Castiel Novak all to yourself now. His totally sexy body, his buffed arms, what else? Hmm, his package, his…library…his kisses. You literally have him and no one else does. So stop being a baby and go get the guy before some other witch swoops in and takes him away from you."

"Over my dead body," Dean said stiffly. "Anyone tries to claim him and I'll run them over then reverse."

Charlie laughed before settling down, always the lighthouse beam that guided him back home, and she wasn't entirely frustrated but rather much thrilled to offer assistance. "So, what do you think about the Order of the Phoenix? Have you met Umbridge as yet?"

The dire need to dissect his reactions on Friday were far too crucial and lasted onto Saturday. But he couldn’t find enough time to ponder on those things because his father highlighted the day as quite essential for dragging Dean to a few stores that stocked equipment he desperately needed to replenish his workshop. And after spending more than half the day packing away everything in their right places and reorganizing the entire workshop, the two of them savored two beers and enjoyed dinner in each other’s company.

Castiel’s tea date with Charlie kept him away for the evening and when Dean wandered up to his room that night, he least expected the roar of the Harley to greet his ears. Apparently the two spent a considerable amount of time in each other’s company well after eight that night and because he was so soft in that moment, Dean picked up his phone and stared at the messages on WhatsApp.

He couldn’t last another minute without saying something that rested in the air between them like a thunderstorm. And because he couldn’t shake the feeling that his name possibly dominated most of Castiel and Charlie’s conversation that night, Dean was highly anticipating what the topics were like. Possibly that he was far too untrusting, doubtful, never quite able to realize how favorable the situation was for him especially and most of all, he was being too ridiculous.

But he really desired to listen to the low hum of Castiel's voice, because in the evenings, his tone dulled from the chirpy quality earlier in the day to a rather soothing tempo. It was almost as if he bonded with the sprinkle of stars and moon that hung in the velvet sky, creating a sense of calm that was quite serene and beautiful. And deciding that it wasn't acceptable for them to stretch an entire day without communicating, he owned up to taking the responsibility of his actions.

After three rings, the older man answered and of course, was very much in control of his emotions because not a sense of discomfort was hinted. “I noticed the car leaving today and didn’t walk over. How are you, Dean? Did you manage to achieve an adequate amount of sleep last—"

“Cas, I love you. I…love…you so much,” Dean was too breathless as he curled up in the window seat and strained his eyes onto the many windows facing him from the Novak’s estate. “I’m sorry, okay? I'm sorry a million times. I ask too many questions and I never give up until I get answers. But you know me. You’ve known me for years.”

“Indeed, I have,” Castiel’s tone softened tremendously. “And I love you too,” the soft chuckle that escaped reached the younger man’s ears and warmed his heart. “Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“It kind of was but I’m getting there. So, are we boyfriends now?” Dean kept on studying the glass windows darkened by heavy blinds as the moor remained black from the absence of lights. Castiel was somewhere in there, lurking in that abnormally large estate, possibly all alone and unafraid.

“Is that the term these days? I thought…we are already past being boys.”

“Manfriends sounds less romantic and less loving.”

The older man chuckled and there was the rustle of papers which possibly suggested he was still in his office. “Companion, partner, suitor, _lover_ …perhaps any would be most suited. Or unless you wish to call me what Charlie suggested.”

Dean sighed because his friend was capable of coming up with the most creative things. “Let me guess. A cute smol teddy bear that loves hugs?”

“No,” Castiel laughed heartily before settling down again. “She referred to you as my soulmate. Isn’t that beautiful though? I think that it is. Call me whichever one you wish once you’re quite convinced that my heart belongs to you. I really don’t care if I'm referred to by my name. Are you in bed?”

Although he wished not to dwell on those thoughts, Dean wondered if Castiel was relaxed enough to allow his hand to wander. If his hands _could_ wander, then what would he sound like when deeply affected by pleasure? Would his voice become rustier? Would he…become speechless? “Nah, I’m sitting by the window. Are you?”

“Yes, in fact,” the older man squeaked as he apparently rose up and the phone shifted, “let me reveal my spying spot to you officially so you may stop fatiguing your mind trying to decipher where my bedroom is.” The sound of heavy curtains being pushed back drifted through the line and then Dean studied the only window lit up by warm yellow. “Hi,” Castiel’s silhouette waved across the stretch of distance with the moor resting between them like a heavy white blanket darkened by shadows. “Your huggy bear misses you so much.”

“Hey,” Dean awkwardly waved back as his face warmed from a blush, “you’re so cute, you know that?”

The curtain still remained parted and Castiel’s form sunk onto the seat as the two of them considered each other from half a mile away. “A man of forty-five still managing to own that description is quite something. You’re making me blush.”

“Don’t get me started on how hot you are. It’s like you haven’t aged at all over the years. And maybe I was born too late but like I told you before, if we went to school together, I would be all over you.”

“All over me _how_ exactly? I'm not sure what that means, Dean.”

“Let’s just say that I’d find all the empty classrooms where I could touch you…” he could feel his face growing warmer and wondered how earlier, the thought of venturing away from topics such as books and the weather and mundane things seemed so much easier now than what he expected. "Your body must be so damn fine beneath your clothes."

“Dean Winchester is actually flirting with me,” Castiel chuckled, leaning onto the side of the window with his feet tucked under. “I can’t believe I’m so fortunate. Do you honestly believe that you would have found me appealing in high school? Think about the nerdy kids that you passed in the hallways everyday hugging large volumes of books and dressed in ridiculously large sweaters and baggy pants. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice me.”

“Believe me, I would. And if you smelled like you do now back then, bergamot, sandalwood, soft apples and honey, dammit, Cas.”

“You should talk, Mister Irish Spring.”

Dean snorted as he hugged his knees and gazed intently at the dark mansion across the distance that contained many rooms. “Cas, is it weird that I keep longing to see you every time you go away? I’ve been doing that for years but suddenly I get really nervous when I think about meeting you again.”

“It isn’t weird because the feeling is mutual. But you've had your chance recently and you decided to let me go."

The silence lingered for a while until Dean sighed and then he understood that certain things needed to be addressed. He couldn't continue to keep his feelings to himself, not when they were supposed to bloom. "I think the one thing that scares me the most about you, is that I have you, like _actually_ have you, Cas. Out of all the people in the world, you chose me and maybe it's pretty unbelievable that you would, because I'll forever think there's nothing special about me. But it scares me when I think of where we're going to go, the things we will do to each other when we get there…not knowing how to but wanting to. The conversations we're going to have. The…freaking moments where we will have disagreements and unlike old times, we can't just walk away because we're in a damn relationship. And we got to make things work because if we don't…we're going to lose each other forever. I can't lose you, Cas, I just can't because nobody knows you better than me, everywhere you go I'm going to follow you to the end of the world."

Castiel cleared his throat without replying immediately and then the blind across the moor shifted. "Wow, Dean," he croaked, obviously on the verge of crumbling. "Um…" his voice wavered considerably before he inhaled deeply, clearly drowning in emotions, "…such depth…you…I…mean…what…can you give me a moment please?" sniffing, the older man's shape by the window curled into a comma.

"Okay," Dean said softly, his throat aching from the actuality of delivering a speech that softened enough to render someone speechless. "Take your time to absorb all that I said."

When the silence stretched on, he could have listened to Castiel breathing, could have stayed on the line all night just savoring the musical sounds of the way air flowed through someone he was breathlessly in love with. Someone who crashed into him one day after a heavy fight, and shattered the glass bubble he was residing in for so many years. Someone who seeped into his pores and created rubies that flowed with his blood, that became part of him, that enveloped him like a blanket even when he could be standing outside in the harsh weather. And because he was so comforted and soothed and encased in so much love, Dean would have allowed Castiel anything he requested.

He would have given him his soul, his heart, every inch of his body, every breath he took, even all his possessions, just so that the smile which radiated like sunshine on the older man's face, would remain there forever.

"Can I keep going?" Dean braved, despite his own chest aching from desiring to hold Castiel so close to him whilst he was struggling to absorb the declarations.

"Yes…" the soft whisper, like the fingers of the wind touching the trees.

"When I was growing up, I never told you this but do you remember how I hated the way fairytales ended? The whole wedding with a princess and a prince and flowers and confetti and everything else?" Dean leaned onto the window pane and sighed. "Well, I never knew why until I was going through some of my old stuff from school today and I found this drawing. I had to be like eight when I drew it…I actually coloured this crappy arch with flowers, and there is stick _me_ standing under it and next to me…there isn't a princess…or a female anyway because the person isn't wearing a dress…"

"Jeans?" Castiel tried although his voice still remained husky.

Dean shook his head and was washed over with a sense of complete love and nervousness, becoming so shy because of their conversation. "No, Cas. It's definitely a guy and he's wearing a trench coat. So…maybe I wasn't thinking about it in any way other than you being the only person I'd trust to spend the rest of my life with…maybe as a kid I just understood that you had to marry your best friend…someone who makes you happy. But it's so…when I saw it I had to sit down and I had a moment…you know?"

"Can you show me?" Castiel asked softly, sounding as if he was a thousand miles away.

"I will," Dean said smiling through his tears. "I'll, uh…take a photo after we're done talking and send it to you. Also, every single time I was asked to write about someone famous, I always wrote about you. Every single time I had to make a card for…Valentine's Day or Christmas, or even Easter…even in high school…all of the ones I found and I don’t know why I still have them…they all have your name in them. And I'm talking about as late as when I was sixteen, I remember doing one for Lisa, but I still have yours because I don't think I ever thought I'd be able to give you without it meaning something…different."

"Dean, you're making me cry," Castiel said through soft sobs, his voice weakening to a hoarse quality.

"I'll stop then because I don't want to do that…"

"No, no please. What else did you find?" the older man's innocent tone filled the phone and he sniffed. "Please don't stop. Keep talking to me."

Rather, Dean would have preferred not to divulge more soppy stories to create a flow of tears, but he complied. "Well, I…found that damn poetry book…I used to cut out the pictures of cats and dogs from the newspapers and paste them in there. And I used to write these crappy odes to them. Most of those were stupid."

"I liked them. They were cute."

"I found a picture inside there though, wonder why it was tucked away…" Dean frowned as he rose up and went to his desk, parting the notebook decorated in an assortment of cat stickers and plucking out the image. "It's uh, 2007, January 25th. A day after my eleventh birthday and I'm standing by this…statue of an ugly clown with cotton candy in my hand…wearing a freaking…hideous pair of shorts and a red t-shirt. Do you know what happened then? Who took it?"

"I did," Castiel said softly and he sniffed again then cleared his throat, "John was out of town and there was a circus that just came here for three days. You wanted to go on your birthday but Ellen kept a small party for you as always and because you couldn't…and it was the last day…you were terribly upset. I went over and there you were…crying…completely disappointed that no one seemed to understand how your fascination in the circus seemed to peak. Sam, of course didn't wish to go near it because of his phobia for clowns. So, naturally, I took you."

"I don't remember, Cas…" Dean said quietly, trying to push through his mind for those memories. "Why the hell can't I remember a circus coming here?"

"Possibly because you were sick with the flu also. It was quite overwhelming for you too, because you actually wanted to try every ride and threw up until I had to drive you back home. Those were the good old days." Castiel chuckled. "I spoiled you rotten, Dean. All you had to do was come to me and ask for anything and I'd ensure that you were granted it. But you never asked for much except books and everything else meant so much to you."

"Like when I wanted that red bicycle I kept seeing in the window every single time I walked home and it was so expensive. And I just told you about it—"

"And it showed up one morning just before you left for school," Castiel recalled fondly how those green eyes widened and tore up, the thump of the backpack onto the front porch and a younger Dean darting onto the lawns to circle the gift. "The motorcycle…"

"Dammit, don't remind me of that, Cas," Dean cringed from the days in high school when he actually ended up becoming a chick magnet because all the girls wanted a ride. "The traffic was too much to handle…and I'm not just talking about the ones that run with motors."

"Dean…"

"Yeah?" the younger man held his breath and connected his eyes to the window once more where the blinds were vacated of Castiel's shadow. Where had he disappeared to? Why wasn't he still sitting there so that his presence could be felt, at least a hint of physically being there.

"I'd give you anything you wish for, providing that it is achievable."

Dean smiled and nodded, his chest melting considerably but he searched and searched for the shadow of the older man moving behind the blinds and could locate none. "I know that, Cas. I've known that for so many years. You don't have to remind me of it. Where did you go?"

"Hmm?" the clink of a glass and the gushing of water filled the phone afterwards, then a sigh and the question's meaning settled in. "I'm here, sweetheart. You mustn't worry. I'm always here for you."

The soft words welled up tears in Dean's green eyes until he pulled his knees to his chest and wiped them away, head lowered and chest exploding from love. "Cas…"

"Yes?" the crackle of logs perhaps in the hearth somewhere within the mansion and then the sigh of a cushion as Castiel lowered himself onto it. "Talk to me, Dean."

"Do you…uh," he couldn't even process the words immediately but tried to focus on the rise and fall of his chest, as was recommended years ago by the very same person he was latching onto. "Do you believe in miracles, Cas?"

"I do, because you are the most incredible one I've ever known."

Dean's face contorted as he cried softly so quickly and wetting the knees of his purple pajamas, he couldn't even take measured breaths whilst processing such beautiful lines that were delivered to disarm him. Possibly if it wasn't definite between them of their feelings stretching into intimacy more than friendship, then he could have swallowed the words easily. But now, when the depth of Castiel's love was already revealed to Dean, he realized that every single line carried so much more meaning. And the most stunning realization was knowing now that all those years, the older man probably delivered those words with the same meaning.

"You're making me softer than the mush I'm known to be," Dean tried in a rusty voice, dabbing at his face and thanking the world that no one was there to witness him being reduced to a pile of fluff. "I wanted to tell you that just before you actually came right out and told me you're in love with me, I kind of wished that I could get another chance at love. Like I was sitting right up here in my room, mulling things over, and thinking…what if I try again? What if I just go out there and maybe take a leap? It wouldn't hurt to try. And then… _you_ happened to me. You came in like a wrecking ball, Cas, literally that song makes me emotional now because it hits different, you know?"

"I couldn't get past the swinging ball and the overly excessive humping and licking. A fantastic song. Brilliant even. But Cyrus needs to contain her animalistic displays of desire."

"Wow, Cas," Dean actually laughed, "say it like you mean it. As always."

"I always do, Dean. Now, off to bed for both of us if we would like to wake up early enough for church. I can’t wait to see you. I love you…so much, dearest darling. Sweet dreams.”

After he hung up and slipped into bed, Dean collected his copy of the Order of Phoenix from the bedside table and engaged in reading until he started to drift asleep. But curiosity managed to sweep over him in the shadowed room and reaching for his phone, he turned to Google to equip himself with as much information as possible about whatever two men could accomplish in the art of lovemaking.

Now, to Dean, such a topic was highly appealing after a while because he never before ventured into such research territories, therefore whatever articles he could find were of the personal opinionated nature. And by the time the clock struck midnight, he explored so many acts of making love to another man, that he was too astonished to sleep for quite some time.

The next morning though, after dragging himself out of bed and accompanying John in his dark blue pickup truck to church, the two of them barely managed to slip in before the opening prayer. Lo and behold though, two surprises awaited them; firstly, it appeared as if Father Crowley was suddenly replaced by a rather young and spritely man who proceeded to speak to the congregation as if he was familiar with them for many years. His fresh approach was welcomed enough to receive nods of approval and just when Dean was beginning to fancy the priest’s open humor, someone quite warm settled into the space next to him.

“Why are you late?” Dean whispered, shifting and glancing at his father who acknowledged Castiel with a nod and a smile. “I thought you weren’t coming. You had me worried, man.”

“Let’s just say that I ended up perusing a bit of content online a little too late and slept past midnight,” the older man returned as he leaned in and warm breath brushed Dean’s right ear. The kiss was barely there, rather like a ghost and the sensation thrilled Dean until he was fighting to maintain composure. “Who is this fellow?” Castiel jerked his chin towards the altar that lacked Crowley’s round face.

“I’m as clueless as you are.”

It appeared as if the two of them were a little too similar and because his mind instantly drifted back to the research conducted online, Dean suddenly felt awkward after dwelling on those kinds of thoughts in church. Especially since the very person involved in the participation of his dreams happened to be glued to his right side. And because Castiel was dressed in a well-tailored suit as always, this one of a dark maroon color, Dean wondered if his hands could slip under the flaps of the older man’s jacket, then possibly he would discover a toned body too beautiful to behold.

With their thighs and arms pressed together most desirously, the butterflies awakened inside Dean’s chest. Although he wished not to provide any kind of confirmation to his father who kept throwing glances at the pair seated next to him, when Castiel purposely brushed their fingers together upon their thighs, he melted instantly. And hooking their pinkies in quite a secretive gesture, the two of them kept their eyes focused on the priest who proceeded to introduce the two readers of the scriptures.

Dean felt so contented in those two hours, delighted that he was involved in an affair far too confidential at that point to include even his father who ideally supported the match many years prior. John would most likely approve regardless of the time or circumstances but there was a kind of mischievous glint in Dean’s emerald eyes when he realized that the secret was too beautiful to divulge to anyone else as yet, well except for Charlie and Sam.

Perhaps Ellen deciphered their conversation by the staircase on Friday night to mean a little more than their usual banter. But no one in particular received confirmation thus far on the two of them entertaining their budding romance as a couple. And because Dean was excited to even ponder on the possibility of finally having a lover, a soulmate, whichever term most suited their attachment, he quite enjoyed the rest of the Mass.

They kept touching each other discretely during the two hours, fingertips kissing the inches on hands that were concealed between their thighs. Ever so often, Castiel would brush their shoes together, as if yearning more than anything else to achieve some kind of intimacy which couldn’t be accomplished in such a setting. Dean's heart hammered away, he completely became lost along the procession of the Mass and it was so evident that they were perhaps making love through those small touches. And because they were growing quite needy, and desperate to savor each other in every way possible, the heightened adrenaline that arose from stealing intimate gestures was phenomenal.

When Castiel separated from him after church to speak to two women from the Bible Club, Dean found himself in the company of the young priest who introduced himself as Father Aaron. He was a man of quite a young age, only thirty and was recently transferred from a parish in Michigan due to an emergency involving his predecessor.

“You have any idea what happened?” Dean inquired about Crowley as most of the congregation dispersed and a few people hung around to entertain conversations. “He just upped and left?

“Seems so from what I managed to gather. Very unfortunate if you ask me. Usually when a priest is removed, it’s because of something terrible happening.” Father Aaron frowned deeply, still dressed in his white cassock and purple stole around his neck. “So, tell me about Littleton. Is it as reserved as most people claim it to be?”

“Quiet, I’ll tell you that much,” Dean glanced around and noticed that Castiel was missing, perhaps returning inside the church. It was usually the older man’s habit of flitting around from person to person, unearthing laughter and an abundance of conversation. “But hey, just like any other town, we got our own culture.”

“Michigan was very…cultured,” Father Aaron chuckled, his bright brown eyes reflecting the sunlight that never felt warm anymore because of the winter. “The church was quite larger than this one, and everyone seemed so disconnected at times that when I first arrived here this morning, I was astonished to see how people get along like family.”

“One of the things about this place is that everybody knows everybody” Dean shook his head and nodded at his father who approached them in smiles. “This is my dad. Dad, this is Father Aaron.”

“Pleasure to meet you, padre. The name’s John Winchester,” the older man said, offering a handshake and after receiving one, he proceeded to express his delight in having a new face around town. “You coming with me or waiting on your angel?” this he directed at his son with the most genuine smile ever.

Dean’s cheeks felt warmer although halfway concealed by the dark purple scarf wrapped around his neck, “I’ll walk back. You go ahead.” And receiving a reassuring pat on his back, he wondered in that moment if indeed his father was already aware of the secret he believed was being kept under wraps. In fact, he had to have known, based on prior conversations when John boldly labelled their relationship as more than a friendship.

“So, are you married, Dean?” the priest asked, narrowing his eyes with a small smile. The area around them was vacated of the usual faces that remained afterwards and instead was now glistening white from the trampled snow “I take it that your _angel_ is some pretty girl who’s lucky enough to have you tied down?”

Dean suddenly discovered that the mischievous glint in the other man’s brown eyes were far too revealing of his intentions. And because he was astonished by being on the receiving end of open scrutiny, he nodded in approval since it was very rare to highlight a man of the cloth who required no restraints on displaying his ability to think and feel like any human being. Well, there had been Crowley who became quite suggestive in certain situations, but Dean couldn't believe that he was being teased by the predecessor.

“Nah, I’m not married.”

“Being a Deacon sucks, and it’s not all peachy.”

Dean sighed. “Damn, here I was thinking you’re one of those plain old traditional priests who couldn’t get married. Wasn’t Crowley a Deacon too?”

“Lord knows what he was,” Aaron sighed too and glanced at a group of ladies hustling out of the church, bubbling up from laughter. “I had the misfortune of meeting him once and although he is a very nice man, there’s just something about him that I don’t like at all. You on the other hand,” those brown eyes latched onto green ones and the smile returned, “I think that we’ll be great friends. Wouldn’t mind if you came over and briefed me a little more about the secrets of Littleton.”

The intention was far too easy to decipher unlike other occasions when a man perhaps would have flirted with Dean and he wouldn’t realize the difference from friendship. But in this case, the truth was so crystal clear that he wondered why he was suddenly being highlighted as someone men believed to belong to a particular crowd. Was it his appearance; the turtleneck sweaters and black framed glasses? Or was he suddenly radiating with a rainbow glow all because of his obvious attraction to his lifelong best friend?

“Ah! Here you are,” the very man in question showed up by Dean’s side, always spritely and consumed by smiles. “I take it this the new captain of the ship?”

Aaron offered nothing but good humor in return and the conversation was leading to the thrill experienced from discarding Crowley to the _howling wolves_ as Castiel remarked with a chuckle. He couldn’t contain his excitement from the disappearance of a man he most definitely believed to be a bad character. Although things were going so well between himself and the replacement though, something changed drastically after Castiel noticed the lingering gazes between the Deacon and the younger man by his side.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” he asked suddenly, reaching down and entwining Dean’s fingers with his gloved ones. “We mustn’t waste such a lovely Sunday that we simply _must_ spend together. Hmm?”

Impressed immensely by the public display of adoration, green eyes widened at blue ones who merely blinked back coolly. “Uh, sure, darling,” he added with a rather soft countenance after they could not dull the intense gaze between them.

“Right! Well,” Castiel nodded at Aaron who was evidently quite astonished as Dean, “we’ll see you around. It’s good to have you here in our small wonderful world. I do hope you enjoy your humble abode and if there is anything _we_ can do,” he lifted their entwined fingers and tipped his head, smiling warmly, “then be sure to let us know.”

Being tugged away so purposely was something that Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at, as their footsteps drifted further away from the young Deacon who stared after them with a smile that faded gradually. And by the time their boots began to leave deep imprints along the trail lining the pathway through the forest containing trees covered in snow, Dean was far too consumed with warmth to even conceal his laughter.

“What?” Castiel turned to admire the abundance of humor as they walked slowly.

Dean though, was far too much in love to even dull his smiles. “Really? You’re jealous? _You_?”

“If I wasn’t, wouldn’t that be rather unusual?” Castiel offered a small pout that was too suggestive of his adorable nature. “Besides, he was absolutely flirting with you. He wanted to undress you with his eyes. Were I not so much in good spirits, I would have expressed my disappointment in his inability to keep his desires to himself.”

Nervousness was still evident, and although Castiel wound an arm around his waist and pulled him nearer, Dean couldn’t fight the urge to bundle them up closer together. His fingers sought out the fur lining of the older man’s winter coat, burying deep inside and carding his hand across Castiel’s back still radiating with warmth through his layers of clothing. And because he could not contain his swell of desire, Dean suddenly stopped on the pathway and after blue eyes considered him, he drifted nearer and buried his face into the nape of Castiel’s neck.

The conversation the previous night, just hours before, the softness of their words and how they were unravelling each other so slowly and beautifully; it was so overwhelming.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the older man held him tenderly, his arms looping around Dean’s waist inside of his warm brown coat. “You’re too cold, aren’t you?” Gloved hands fixed the red beanie on dark blonde hair a little better than before, and after pressing his lips onto Dean’s right cheek, Castiel kissed him softly.

Of course, the feeling was far too beautiful even though they were still spared the actuality of a full-blown kiss, but just the press of those parted lips onto Dean’s cheek was enough to melt him into a comfortable warmth. Despite the bitter weather, the wave of summer between their embrace was far too intoxicating to let go of, and as they started to walk again, the two of them remained close like two lovers only desiring intimacy rather than separation.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, Dean. I was tormented and I must ask you. The man from New York,” Castiel said as their boots chomped fresh snow that gathered from the night prior, “did he just flirt with you? Or did he make any further advances?”

Although Sam warned never to reveal the truth from that night, Dean decided that secrets were like thorns but he was a bit skeptical on the sudden decision to bring up the topic. “Why?”

“Blame it on a movie that captured me for over an hour but it was the plot that stirred up paranoia,” Castiel’s pulled him in closer and nuzzled their cheeks together. “After being separated from the man she loved, Barbara ended up becoming tangled with another man who was far too eager to replace the void in her heart. It’s one of those little things that keep gnawing at me because I know that there’s more to the story.”

“Yeah?” Dean stiffened inside the older man’s embrace as their pace slowed. “Why do you think that there’s more?”

“I know you. I know when you’re concealing something from me and I’ve been thinking about your persistence in addressing the fact that we haven’t kissed as yet. The Dean I’m familiar with would not be so bothered by this. It’s like there is a need inside of you to prove something and I think I know what happened.”

When he didn’t answer but held his breath and wished that they could speak of anything else, it was enough to convince Castiel of the truth. It was always his silence that spoke volumes, the one flaw he possessed that rang truth to his inner struggles which the older man always became privy to eventually. Only difference was, that this time, the topic up for discussion was a lot more painful to delve into and because the nails were hammered into the wood now, the aftermath was uncomfortable to Dean.

“He kissed you, didn’t he?” Castiel’s voice was so soft as they walked slowly and light snowflakes drifted from the sky. “Another man kissed you before I could.”

“Cas, it’s not like I was sober enough to remember most of it and—”

“ _Most_ of it?” the older man stopped and after capturing Dean’s shoulders between his grasp, he studied those green eyes that widened. “Was there more than a kiss? Did he…touch you?” blue eyes swept the younger man’s neck slowly as if trying to identify the places that were abused. He then studied Dean’s chest covered in a thick green sweater and his fingertips lightly brushed the brown belt as if too nervous to even attempt a further examination. “Please tell me that he didn’t have you. Please.” Castiel pleaded as their gaze connected again. “My darling…”

“He didn’t. He just…” Dean sighed, shaking his head and wondering why the happiness between them was suddenly chased away with the cold winds, “one minute I wasn’t in control of what was happening when he kissed me and then after he started…getting all handsy, because I was so…overwhelmed by you, his face…he just looked like you. I couldn’t stop because I thought I was really kissing _you_ and …Sam came in and pulled us apart,” Dean’s strained expression considered Castiel who appeared completely wounded by the confession but to what extent, he wasn’t certain. “I wanted to kiss you so bad, Cas. Nothing else mattered to me because we weren’t in a good place and I was just realizing what the hell all of it meant, you know?”

Nodding slowly, Castiel sighed as if expelling the conflicting emotions overwhelming him and then he captured Dean’s face between his gloved hands. “This is why I’ve always told you that consuming alcohol weakens our minds considerably. If that man wanted to harm you, he could have and can you imagine if Sam wasn’t there? Dean…it was reckless of you to give up all your control just because you were wounded.”

“I was in so much pain, Cas…I didn’t know what the hell was happening to us and I was so scared that I’d fuck everything up.”

“I know, my love,” the older man’s curled fingers caressed Dean’s cheeks tenderly as his gaze softened. “And I will never forgive myself for pushing you away with my absolutely terrible decision to use Hanna as a distraction. Now, since this is out in the open and such a secret will not poison our love, I must tell you that I am prepared to answer any questions you wish to ask me, regardless of the depth. You have always been quite a curious person, which is why Alice in Wonderland was your favorite book as a child. And if there is anything you wish to ask me, if there is anything you wish to say to me, then you must. I will not deprive you of information. Is that clear?”

Dean slowly nodded and tears filled his eyes after the absence of considerable anger was replaced by complete love. “I love you so much, huggy bear. Shit, I don’t know if I deserve someone so amazing as you are.”

Castiel entwined their fingers and smiled as they continued to walk through the trees. “Oh, most definitely you deserve me because there is no one else I’d ever allow to have you as theirs. I’d fight them to the death just to have you as mine.” Walking in silence for a while, he considered Dean brushing the tears away from his face and felt regretful. “Please forgive me for bringing up such a sore topic when we were in happy spirits. I only wished to address it before my anxiety got the worst of me and because I understood that our conversation in my office was a bit…hurtful, I wanted to make every attempt to fix that discomfort.”

“It’s all cool,” Dean sniffed and chuckled as they neared the end of the trail that branched off in two directions. Here they were again, but this time, so much had changed between them. “Glad to know that you can figure out what’s bothering me before I do. You’ve always done it. It’s like you can see everything inside of me and you know just how to make the pain go away. And I don’t know what the hell I’d do without you, man.”

“Dean,” Castiel took the younger man’s hands into his own and smiled warmly as his cheeks colored, “I know you like the back of my hands. Now, will you have lunch with me? Just the two of us? Claire and Balthazar are out for the day and they aren’t expected back till tomorrow.”

“You asking me out, Cas?” Dean chuckled, and eyes lowered as he shyly considered their boots buried inside the thick snow. He really couldn’t believe it; that for the first time ever, his best friend of twenty-five years was actually suggesting a date.

Castiel smiled back and squeezed the younger man’s fingers. “Yes. I think I just…did. And not out but rather _in_ considering that we’ll be inside my home.”

“It’s a date then,” Dean leaned forward and rubbed their noses together affectionately, and instantly, blue eyes fluttered close as Castiel drifted nearer. In that moment, the chemistry between them was so electric, bringing their lips closer as Dean dared a chaste kiss. What he felt after brushing their lips though was something so tremendous that weakened his knees. “Spending today with you sounds like the beginning to the best day ever.”

“Good job with the Taylor Swift reference,” Castiel said before his parted lips rested on the younger man’s flushed cheek then stepping away and smiling abundantly, he smiled. “And don’t you dare look astounded that I am familiar with her songs. Of course, I’m well-versed in Taylor because my _lover_ happens to be quite obsessed with her music.”

“Ha!” Dean stared back in awe and afterwards, he laughed from the older man’s returned reference. “Your lover, huh? Plan on showing me what’s underneath your clothes later? You know, since we’re so damn attracted to each other and all?”

Eyebrows raised, Castiel tentatively backed away, “you wish to see me naked, Dean? You only have to ask nicely, you know. Then again, I am not that easy to give in. The weather is so cold already,” the older man’s tone dipped as he offered an apologetic look, “ridding me of my clothes might be too terrible in the middle of winter, don’t you think?”

“Don’t make me chase you, Cas,” Dean squared his shoulders as if preparing to make a dash and immediately, Castiel’s footsteps hastened away. “I wouldn’t stop until I can at least get one layer of clothing off of you, dammit!” he called after the quickly retreating figure of the older man who shook with laughter. “Dress code for later; don’t overdress!”

When he returned home, John suddenly entertained the most ridiculous idea of paying Bobby a visit in such a weather. Then after winking at his son when plans were revealed to have lunch with Castiel, he finally decided to corner Dean in the kitchen as the younger man pulled out bowls and ingredients to whip up an apple pie.

“Look, no attempts on my part to get all nosy but since I’m your father,” John leant a hip onto the stove, arms folded as he smiled at the flush on his son’s face, “I must tell you that I’m so proud of you.”

“Why? I haven’t even gotten my grades back as yet. Might manage four A’s this time. Well hopefully, considering that I think that I screwed up one question and—”

“I’m talking about Cas,” John chuckled when green eyes widened in his direction and the bag of flour was carefully rested onto the counter. “Don’t look so surprised that I should know about you two secretly going around behind my damn back. I saw you in church today. Can't keep your hands off of him, can you? Well, I always knew.”

Dean stared back in awe because of course, he wasn’t able to conceal anything from his father apparently. “I was going to tell you but I didn’t know how to come right out and say it.”

“Nah,” John waved off the words and laughed, “you’re a man now. You could make your own decisions and this is by far the best one you’ll ever make, son.”

Carefully measuring flour and tossing it into a large red bowl, Dean covered the container and returned it to the cupboard above the sink. “Don’t get me wrong, dad. I’m just wondering how you’re so okay with me being with another guy instead of finding a wife like you always kept teasing me about. I mean, isn’t that what you want? Me tying some girl down and living here with grandkids?”

John pushed his socked feet into large brown snow boots and reached for the six pack of beer. “I’ll admit, when I found out Cas was in love with you a couple years back, I wasn’t too pleased with it. Gave me quite a hard time at first, accepting that my wife’s best friend was pining after my eldest son. But Ellen made me come around to liking the idea.”

“How?” Dean stopped mixing and waited, evidently anxious to learn of his nanny’s convincing statements. He wasn’t surprised by Ellen’s authority over his father. In more ways than one, she was always capable of guiding all the Winchesters into the right direction.

“She said that gender don’t matter which was my first issue. You know, raised as a Catholic and all. And then if I could really accept Jody and Donna being happy together and turn a judgmental eye on two guys, then that ain’t exactly fair. In addition to that, Ellen reminded me that it wasn’t just _any_ other man we were talking about here. He just happened to be the one guy your mother and I always respected and thought to be an honest gentleman despite his rough roll around with that godforsaken she-devil.” John wound a black scarf around his neck and unlatched the backdoor. “Now mind you, he is the only man I’ll ever really accept you being in a relationship with. Any other man you bring to me if things don’t work out between you and Cas, well they got to prove that they’re good as he is. And don’t let go of what you have right now, Dean. You’ve got something real good with him.”

Dean nodded, smiling warmly as he melted inside because many people would envy his father’s acceptance. What he could never compensate for was the abundance of love John distributed to himself and Sam. “I know. Believe me, I know that much. I never thought that… _he_ would be the one.”

“After all these years, Cas was standing right in front of you whilst you frolicked with that Braeden girl and Ellen’s wild daughter. Gender don’t matter, son,” John tapped his temple and nodded. “ _Love_ does. You two came a long way already bickering like a married couple since you were just a teenager. I don’t think you could find a better pair around these parts. The only man I’ll walk you down the aisle and hand you over to, Dean,” John stepped out the backdoor and bundled his coat tighter around him. “Just remember that.”

“So, you’re actually giving me the talk, huh?” Dean laughed as his father chuckled in return and patted his jean’s pocket for the keys to the truck.

“Can’t tell you to strap up before you dive in because getting knocked up ain’t an issue, you get me?”

“Dad!” Dean stared back and snorted as he could feel his cheeks color from the directness. “Go easy on me, man. All of this is new to me as it’s new to you.”

“Just saying…” John tipped his head, “that the only thing you should be careful with is how you treat that man’s heart. Don’t you do anything stupid to hurt him because you’ll be wrecking a friendship that began before you were born. So, if you’re not in this all the way then don’t jump in. That’s all I’ll give to you in terms of a warning, Dean. Go easy and think before you act. Enjoy the day.”

“You too, dad,” Dean felt so soft when he was left alone and as the sound of the pickup truck faded away down the trail behind the house, he returned to preparing the pie and smiled to himself.

There were certain things that fitted together perfectly, and others that never would, and most definitely, love happened in the right time. That much Dean was sure of when he pushed the pie into the oven and hopped onto the counter, green eyes peering out the window towards the White Mountains.

The longing, that dull ache deep down underneath his heart was so beautiful sometimes, and after wandering around with the belief that he would never ever become fortunate of finding love, there he was brushed with the most incredible opportunity to experience everything there was to know. And maybe he was too lucky to discover that kind of love in a friend he was familiar with for so many years, but he felt undeserving of that sort of thing.

Wasn’t he the one who matched everyone else over the years most successfully and failed to go looking for the perfect person for himself? Didn’t he always tell anyone who would listen that love wasn’t for him, and instead he would focus on the adoration for his books and escaping into other people’s worlds and lives? Now there he was gazing out the window and completely lost in thoughts about the morning walk spent in Castiel’s arms, the feel of the older man’s arm around his waist and the perfect scent of Old Spice and vanilla as he buried his face into the warmth of his lover’s neck.

_His lover._

Dean sighed because the dire need to explore their passion and desire was something that he longed to accomplish, peeling away Castiel’s clothes and allowing his hands to boldly wander because dreams were far too unrealistic sometimes. Before he drifted to sleep at nights, he would oftentimes try to imagine what the older man felt like beneath his palms, the warm plains of Castiel’s body exposed and beautiful to behold. And because he was constantly fantasizing about those little adventures that would possibly happen soon, when Charlie called him whilst the pie was only fifteen minutes baked, Dean was blushing and very happy.

“She couldn’t even decide whether to use the red balls or green ones,” his friend lamented on Dorothy’s decision to decorate the small Christmas tree in a rather ridiculous fashion. “It’s not like it’s rocket science. Anyway, after she went out, I just took all the green balls off and hung up the pink ones along with the red.”

“So basically, your tree now looks like it came straight out of a Barbie movie,” he reached for a round pan on the topmost shelf and rested it by the sink. “Nice job, by the way, taking control of things.”

“Well, she can take the top when I allow her…in bed but not anywhere else,” Charlie smartly replied and both of them heartily laughed afterwards. If it was one most definite truth about her, then that would be the ability to capture Dean in an endless supply of good humor and conversation.

“Things getting pretty heated between you two, huh?” he asked after she wandered into the yard to collect the mail from the little red box by the red picket fence around the farm. Dorothy resided a mile away on the outskirts of Littleton, a stretch of distance Charlie adored covering in her Harley every day.

“I wouldn’t hold back on admitting that if we could make babies, one of us would already be totally pregnant. It’s not so bad though. I mean, there’s nothing to be worried about, you know? Which is good. Really good considering that we can go at it for hours.”

Dean chuckled as he checked the timer on the oven and realized that it was almost eleven. “If I didn’t know better, I’d really be worried that you’re becoming addicted to sex. You don’t even come around as much as you used to which proves to me that you’re always buried under the covers with your girlfriend.”

“It is so freaking awesome that this weather keeps us indoors though. What about you and Cas? Things getting steamy as yet?” Her enthusiasm to discover more was far too generous in Dean’s opinion but he decided that it was safe to divulge as much information as possible to someone whom he considered as a confidante.

“He’s driving me crazy, Charlie. At first, I wasn’t so…physically attracted to him because we’ve known each other for years and he’s just always been…Cas. You know, the guy in the fancy suits and trench coat who was always here. But now…”

“Now he’s become this sexy hunk that aged like fine wine,” Charlie continued in an excited tone that revealed her eagerness for their relationship to progress, “and you can’t wait to get inside of his pants. Dude, you’ve got to start making moves, like smooth moves. You know, reaching in and feeling him up. And I’m not saying this because I’m forcing you to do anything but I’m sure that Cas is just waiting on you to get all touchy with him.”

“But when the hell is the right time?” Dean hopped off the counter and the coldness from the tiled floors seeped through his socks immediately. Slipping the mittens on, he pulled open the oven and checked the pie which was already golden crusted and smelled delicious.

“Just wait till the two of you are alone and go for it. You’ll know what to do and don’t jump too fast. Just go slow at first until you’re pretty sure where he likes being touched and try to remember where those places are. Then you just throw him down on the chair and show him who’s the boss.”

“Woah!” Dean actually laughed out loud whilst carefully trying to slide the pan onto the cooling board. “Listen to you talk, Charlie! You’d believe that you’re a pro by now.”

“I’m way ahead of the game,” she proudly admitted and he could already envision her chest puffing out, “so, you have some smooth moves in mind? In other words, how to seduce Castiel Novak? Wait, isn’t he a Scorpio?”

“Yup, why?”

“Dude, Dorothy is a Scorpio and they’re really passionate and crave lots of sex and kisses. Like, if a girl is as needy as my girlfriend in bed? Think of what it’s like for a guy who’s a Scorpio. That’s pretty intense and they love oral sex—”

“Since you’ve been in a damn relationship with this girl, you’ve become so open,” Dean snorted as he wandered towards the staircase and picked up a duster from the tabletop. But the very thought of Castiel entertaining a constant flow of sexual thoughts was something that he never thought of before until now. The older man always seemed so composed, but when Dean recalled how he was pushed against the wall and given a hickey that warmed his skin until that very moment, he was absolutely certain that there was a wealth of passion inside Castiel.

“It’s because she’s a damn Scorpio I guess,” Charlie’s energetic personality would never dull and only heightened whenever sex was discussed apparently, “if you want to spice up your relationship with Cas, try to flirt by telling him exactly what you want to do with him and pay attention to how he reacts. If he looks turned off about it then stop, which I doubt he will. But try it and see.”

After she continued to explain exactly what her idea of romancing entailed, the pangs of love swelled Dean’s heart enough as he slipped under a warm shower and freshened up. Pulling on a comfortable black sweater that buttoned all the way down the front, he also debated on two layers of pants before agreeing that it was better to be safe than regretful. And packaging the pie into a square container that sealed in the warmth, Dean locked the house and crossed the moor as his boots sunk into the snow.

From the moment Castiel opened the door, he was far too distracted by Charlie’s conversation to even offer a smile though, which the other man provided as always. Dean felt like the world was weighing down on him, coupled with his guitar shouldered in its case across his back, he understood that there was so much sexual tension between them and wished that he could lunge and devour. But instead, in fear of frightening the older man, he attempted to remain cool.

The pie proved to be something that Castiel favored highly, remarking on his contentment from being spoilt rotten by baked treats constantly. But even as they wandered into the estate, Dean remained a little too silent as his heart wanted to soar and cry out so many things that he wasn’t so sure would be delivered in complete sentences. And it wasn’t until the two of them were seated at the table facing each other with cutlery in both hands, that Castiel finally voiced his observation on the other man’s countenance.

“Is everything alright? Did something happen? You’re rather silent and I’m suffocating from worry.”

“Just got a lot on my mind,” Dean helped himself to some more steamed vegetables. “Don’t eat the pie all by yourself, okay? Share it with Claire.” They were seated by the large window again overlooking the expansive gardens covered in snow and in the distance, the peaks of the White Mountains were gleaming in the sunlight.

“I promise I wouldn’t,” Castiel offered a small smile that dulled a few seconds after his eyes remained latched onto green ones. “Is it because I brought up New York earlier?” he served the younger man two scoops of potato salad and then offered up the baked salmon. “Forgive me for being so forward—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s okay, really,” Dean admired Castiel’s attempts to fill his plate before helping himself first. “Can’t wait till I can get to cook for you. Next date’s on me.”

“You baked a pie,” the older man tilted his head after collecting his knife and fork again, “I believe that is adequate enough. Tell me, do you consider ketchup as a vegetable?”

Immediately, Dean stared back in awe, just as he was savoring the finely cooked salmon. “Hell yes. You’ve asked me that before when I was a kid.”

“And although you’re quite aware that tomato is a fruit, you were always quick to admit that ketchup was your daily intake of vegetables. Coupled with potato fries and sausages and hamburgers. Ellen could never get you to eat your vegetables,” Castiel smiled warmly as he cut his salmon into smaller pieces, barely making a sound as he was skilled enough.

“Did you prepare these?” Dean gestured at the spread in between them, astonished by the attention to detail in the arrangements of the sliced sweet peppers, parsley and tomatoes.

“Yes,” Castiel’s blue eyes captured the younger man in a bewitching gaze. “Are you pleased by my cooking?”

“Dude, this is one of the easiest ways to my heart. I can’t let anyone else have you, man. You’re far too good at so many things.”

The older man’s cheeks flushed before he continued eating and after swallowing, Castiel reached for his glass of wine although Dean preferred water. “Thank you. My horoscope specifically highlighted today that I would please my partner immensely, so naturally this is what it probably meant.”

“Probably,” Dean winked and settled into his chair with a wide smile. “Could be more than cooking though.”

Castiel hummed his approval and smiled in return and very soon, they ate in silence for a while until Dean really began to drown in his own thoughts. There it was, the desperate need to peel away the layers between them, brushing back the curtain and peering into the other man’s private thoughts just to decipher what factors were capable of unwinding him. And just like Charlie highlighted, if Castiel was indeed sexual in nature then _he_ possessed a couple of tricks up his sleeve because he was Dean Winchester, and there were so many things about him that his older companion was not aware of.

“Guess what I was doing last night that kept me up late.” He sipped some water and finally allowed himself to also drink in Castiel’s attire which comprised of a thick light blue shirt with long sleeves coupled with a short-sleeved brown sweater with a deep U neck.

“A generous amount of reading? Perhaps continuing your adventures at Hogwarts?” Castiel poured himself some more non-alcoholic wine quite gracefully and then returned the bottle to the aluminum cooler containing ice cubes. “Lingering in the Chamber of Secrets? Clawing the Basilisk’s eyes out?”

It appeared as if the older man managed to peruse the entire Harry Potter collection several times in order to relate so much details, and all of this astounded Dean because of one obvious fact. Castiel used to criticize the series in all its entirety, lamenting on the idea of introducing witchcraft to young minds being rather too forward. He thought that it was unfair of J.K Rowling to reveal Dumbledore’s sexuality way after the books were released and always remarked on the injustice of coupling Harry with Ginny and Ron with Hermione. He preferred Harry and Hermione extensively and would have adored if the two ended up together in the end.

“Nah, I actually found this blog that went in depth about the things two dudes can do whilst making out, and I never knew,” Dean admired blue eyes that widened from awe, “that there are so many different ways to explore. I mean, I kept dreaming about just getting you out of your clothes and kissing you all over, but damn.”

Swallowing and blinking as his chest heaved, Castiel slowly lowered his cutlery and stared back because evidently, he was completely overwhelmed by the honesty. “You’ve…been thinking about…us…”

When his words died away, Dean chuckled because there wasn’t a hint of discomfort but mostly intrigue. “Of course, Cas. That’s what being in love with someone leads to eventually, right?”

“I suppose it does. Considering that physical attraction is a contributing factor.”

“How important is that to you though?” Dean leaned a little closer, cutlery still grasped in his hands as he peered into blue eyes that stared back at him. “On a scale of one to ten. Ten being extremely high.”

“How important is…sex to me?” the quality of Castiel’s voice was tremendously affected and when Dean nodded slowly, he considered the question and swallowed. “Um,” clearing his throat, he studied his plate as if searching for a most suited reply, “my answer will obviously allow you to judge my character and our relationship so if I must be completely honest, I’ll go with one hundred.”

“Damn,” Dean sat back and whistled, his countenance reflecting astonishment as the tables turned. “Definitely living up to your zodiac sign, huh? You’re an amped up Scorpio.”

“I am,” Castiel became so weakened by the topic that after shyly smiling, he tried to collect his cutlery again but both slipped out of his grasp. “Since when are you so considerate of astrology? The last time we perused a Seventeen magazine, I can recall you completely shutting the idea down even when our two signs were listed as most compatible for this year leading into next year.”

Dean sighed, still incredibly astounded by the reaction he managed to unearth, “yeah well that night I was kind of in denial about my feelings for you. I mean, I’m sure of it now that the idea of you sleeping in my bed was a little too uncomfortable for obvious reasons. And then when you reached over and turned off the light, I was like shit,” Dean chuckled as Castiel suddenly smiled warmly, “he’s going to kiss me, dammit, he’s going to freaking _kiss_ me. And then when you didn’t kiss me, I was like aw well, maybe Sam was wrong.”

“I actually wanted to kiss you. But then I thought that you’d probably fall out of the bed and run away from me.” After sipping some wine as they considered each other, quite amused, Castiel admired Dean helping himself to more salmon and steamed vegetables. “What did Sam say? I’m curious now.”

“When he was here not so long ago with Jess and the kids. You know, the same night you held my hand for the first time,” Dean was obviously enjoying the other man’s intrigued reaction as he continued to slowly devour the food. “Sam kind of mentioned that you were the perfect match for me and I kept thinking if I’d want to go there with you. Not a good topic to have whilst eating, right?”

Castiel shook his head slowly and licked his lips. “No, no it’s…fine. By all means, do continue.”

“I didn’t like the idea back then,” Dean admitted, chewing slowly as his gaze rested on the older man’s flushed neck. “Thing is, I never thought about you like that because well…there was just you and me and us being guys.”

“But evidently your thoughts have changed…”

Dean nodded slowly as blue eyes drowned him in warm pools that reflected openness and astonishment. “Cas, do you know what I want to do to you?”

Holding his breath, Castiel blinked back in absolute awe that forced him to lower his glass. And even though he was completely leveled to formulate the question, the reaction on his face divulged so much more. “What do you…want to do to me?” he asked in a soft voice that was barely a whisper.

Dean allowed a few seconds to slip by as the two of them locked eyes and gazed intensely at each other. “I want to kiss every inch of you that you cover up with your damn clothes. I want to kiss you until we can’t breathe and then when I can’t continue to do that, I want to kiss you where your hands go when you think of me. I want to see you, like really _see_ you down there, so that I don't have to keep imagining what you look like. And I get the feeling that when the time comes, I'm not going to be able to control myself because the things I want to do to you…”

There it was, just as anticipated but never quite prepared was he for the look of utter astonishment on the older man’s face.

“Dean,” Castiel’s chest was heaving uncontrollably as his knife clattered onto the plate and lips parted, he fought to breathe. “My god…”

“Yup,” the younger man smiled widely as he continued to eat, “there’s so much you don’t know about me, huh? Remember I’m pretty much equipped with enough words to express how I feel about you. Just that they're too much to talk about openly. And I’m not going to hold back because I never keep my thoughts to myself. You above anyone else should know that. Dean Winchester in love is…” shaking his head as he felt drunk on a euphoric feeling, those green eyes sparkled, “…someone you’ve never met.”

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” Castiel’s gravelly voice was deepened from his overwhelming flow of emotions. “Dean, if you must know, you’ve managed to disarm me completely. I had no idea you were so…drawn to me that you wish to go further than us kissing.”

“Babe, you have idea how much I want you,” Dean’s head swum as he tried to steady his hands whilst eating. “But you should fuel up.” Jerking his chin at Castiel’s plate, he smiled. “Don’t want you fainting on me after I start kissing you.”

“Are you trying to drive me insane, Dean?” the older man sat back and his voice trembled from losing composure. “Have you any idea what those kinds of speeches are capable of doing to me?”

“I’m a guy like you. Believe me. I know what it’s doing to you. I apologize in advance for finishing the salmon,” Dean chewed and smiled contently, “it’s so good. I think I’m ready for some wine.”

The two of them stared at each other for a prolonged period that was consumed with so much sexual tension, whilst one attempted to gather composure and the other’s eyes twinkled from being quite aware of his teasing nature. Then as Castiel poured a glass of wine for the younger man, their fingers brushed, not accidentally, but purposely on Dean’s behalf because he was evidently determined to unhinge Castiel. He wanted to prove to him that their relationship was changing, that they weren’t just best friends still, enjoying a meal, but rather much anticipating so much more between them.

It wasn’t until he was led into the upper quarters of the estate when Dean realized that the third floor contained both brothers’ private spaces and as Castiel gestured to the winding staircase leading upwards, the younger man’s anxiousness awakened the butterflies all over again. The possibility of his teasing suggesting that they progress their intimacy and explore each other was something that gathered a ball of nervousness inside of his gut and because he was inexperienced but quite aware of what two men could accomplish in the bedroom, Dean’s head grew dizzy with every step that he took.

But evidently, Castiel wasn’t the kind of man who relied on words referencing sex to persuade him into undressing Dean because from the moment they entered the southern wing captured behind two double doors, a grand living room welcomed them. Then there the older man stood, glass of wine clipped between two fingers as he studied Dean’s countenance to ascertain whether he was pleased.

The fire was already ignited and warm and the personalized décor indeed established Castiel’s personality quite efficiently with its cappuccino colored walls, dark coffee colored furniture and a beautiful caramel colored carpet that appeared brand new from the perfected upkeep. In addition to those immediate observations, Dean remarked on yet another wonderful watercolor painting of the ocean and an extended pier where a tanned man leapt off into an arched formation, the tips of his fingers never quite reaching the tumbling waves.

His curiosity allowed him the chance to brush his fingers across the walls until he was faced with a door partially opened and after glancing back at Castiel, the older man gestured for him to proceed. Beyond the doorway though, was a wide and comfortable bedroom twice the size of his own, with a king-sized bed on the left draped in the softest looking blue sheets and very fluffy pillows. And Dean recalled when they talked to each over via video, when he couldn’t stop gazing into the handsome face and still managed to observe the setting inside of the frame.

Immediately on the right side of the bedroom, Castiel didn’t build a walk-in closet but instead the entire wall was fitted to hang his tailored suits, a variety of shoes resting neatly at the bottom.

He could honestly picture himself dwelling in the space, sharing the spacious closet with the older man, claiming his own comfy side of the bed as they…

When Dean’s mind became consumed by thoughts of their bodies entwined beneath the soft blue blankets, he couldn’t breathe and after leaning into the wall, feeling for the frame of the door, what he instead discovered was warm hands slowly entwining with his own. Hands that could burn his bare skin if they chose to roam freely, fingers that would drive pathways through his hair as Castiel rocked with him, building up a slow rhythm whilst they made love to each other. And he could really feel the hoarse cry trapped inside of his throat already, the way his pants tightened and as those same warm arms wound around his waist.

Dean melted into Castiel’s embrace, leaning back into the older man’s body and becoming definitely certain that he wasn’t the only one turned on by their conversation prior. The actual defined feeling of Castiel hard and warm inside of his pants was more than Dean could hang onto to maintain his sanity. All of his composure began to evaporate and no matter how difficult it was to separate the two of them, the urge to pull apart was deserving as Dean’s body opened up and his knees weakened.

“Come let’s sit by the fire before we end up on the bed and then, I wouldn’t have any control of myself.” Castiel broke the loop around the younger man’s waist and capture his hand instead. “More wine, perhaps?”

Dean nodded slowly after their eyes met again, and he became convinced that whatever his countenance revealed was far too honest in whatever he wished to accomplish in that moment. “I think I might have to drink the whole bottle.”

“Thank goodness it doesn't have alcohol,” Castiel tugged him towards the comfortable two cushioned chair and neatly sat after collecting the merlot. “If you consume the whole bottle then you’ll really fight me to get my clothes off and I can guarantee you, Dean, that if you accomplish that, then we will definitely end up on my bed.”

“Listen to us talking about screwing each other, huh?” the younger man sunk onto the chair and smiled at the hearth, “just a month ago, we were best guy friends, you scolding me about matchmaking and me just focused on my exams. Now look how far we’ve come. I’m smitten over you, jumping right past the whole crushing phase and straight into everything else.”

“One might think that a spell was cast on us,” after maintaining a slice of distance between them, Castiel slowly sipped his wine and those blue eyes became fiery from reflecting the flickering flames. “Maybe Ellen paid a visit to the witch in the mountains. Or…John.”

The red wine was easy on Dean’s palate and not entirely sweet but perfect, and he studied the red shade as a desirous heat emanated from between them. “My dad and I had _the talk_ today, actually.”

Immediately Castiel sat up, back as stiff as a poker and he considered the younger man in disbelief. “Good God, did John really discuss sex with you?”

“More along the lines of ‘think before you act, Dean’,” he tried to mimic his father’s deep voice, “and ‘don’t you dare screw this up with Cas because I knew Cas before you were even born’. So, yeah, that pretty much hit me deeper than him talking about sex. Which I don’t mind because I don’t want my dad talking to me about sex. He tried when I was like thirteen and failed until Ellen had to take over. Not sure I ever want to remember him referencing sticking a nozzle into a car to describe the whole act…” Dean smiled at Castiel doubling over in laughter, “Man, it was so funny, Sammy told me years after that he heard the whole conversation and wanted to know if babies came from cars.”

“He…references everything to cars,” the older man dabbed at his eyes and captured Dean’s right shoulder into his grasp, “I remember when I asked him how worthy Mary was to him before they married, and he said ‘think of my 67 Impala and a dusty old Ford in front of you. Mary’s the one I’d prefer to ride around in and the Ford has to burn’.”

“Jesus,” Dean shook with laughter and swelled from so much happiness as the room grew warmer.

The heavy red curtains were drawn but one of them provided a small space barely allowing him to peer through. And as he tried to capture the view beyond the window, he could highlight the rooftops through the forest leading up to the mountains where the few folks who dwelled there maintained their cottages for many years. And Ellen and Bobby’s home was somewhere in the midst, instantly reminding Dean of the night when he was so in raptures with his uncertain feelings for Castiel, pressing their thighs together because he just wanted to touch the older man.

Reaching for the guitar in its navy-blue case, Castiel rested his glass of wine on the finely polished oak table immediately in front of them. “Come now, dearest Dean, you must play for me so that I may fall in love with you all over again.”

Considering Castiel for a few seconds as his mind softened from the merlot, the younger man collected the case and slowly removed the instrument that shone from the soft warm glow of the lamps and the fire. Then as he handed his glass over, Dean fitted the guitar comfortably upon his left thigh and lightly caressed the strings, the soft sounds causing his soul to sigh deeply.

It was like his own release in times most needed of exerting emotions when he was a teenager. After his breakups, and throughout high school when genuine friends were hard to find and the nights were so lonely most times, Dean picked up his guitar and played.

Now though, his audience wasn’t just his best friend who used to sit by the fire in their living room along with his father and Ellen, their smiles dancing from the songs. There was just Castiel, the best friend who he fell so quickly in love with and couldn’t stop drowning in those blue eyes that mellowed after they gazed intensely at each other. In that moment, Dean was so certain that he could determine his future already, and maybe it was a bit too reckless to count his eggs before they hatched but he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Castiel more than anything else in the world.

It was so easy to latch onto the perfect song though, the one song that cradled his heart into a warm embrace. When he started to play the intro to Bryan Adams' ‘Heaven’, the look of utter amazement in Castiel’s eyes served as an immediate confirmation that etching the name of the song onto his guitar meant so much many years ago and still did.

“This is me,” Dean said softly, “trying to explain exactly what you mean to this posh, bookworm who is desperately in love with you. Here goes…” And when he started to play and sing, the words just flowed.

_“Oh thinkin' about all my younger years_

_There was only you and me_

_We were young and wild and free_

_Now nothin' can take you away from me_

_We've been down that road before_

_But that's over now_

_You keep me comin' back for more_

_Baby, you're all that I want_ …” Dean smiled at Castiel whose eyes glistened with tears, and he shifted nearer to him.

_“When you're lyin' here in my arms_

_I'm findin' it hard to believe_

_We're in heaven_

_And love is all that I need_

_And I found it there in your heart_

_It isn't too hard to see_

_We're in heaven.”_

When the last words died away and the logs crackled before them, Castiel buried his flushed face into Dean’s warm neck and pressed soft kisses all the way up to his right ear. From there, as the younger man leant in closer, obviously drowning from the advances, he was soon on the receiving end of the most wonderful toe-curling teasing as his earlobe was captured and chewed.

With those warm arms wound around him, Dean was forced to rest the guitar upon his thighs after his mind dizzied from the feeling of teeth grazing slowly across the back of his neck and although he tried to compose himself, a soft moan was unearthed.

He felt like he was drowning in a cloud somewhere far away, where the world around them disappeared and the only sensation most important was the one derived from an abundance of kisses. Evidently, one of his weak spots was discovered just where Castiel kept softly sucking and kissing at the nape of his neck and after their fingers entwined, Dean ran his fingers through soft brown hair, and those green eyes fluttered close.

Because the actuality of allowing someone to explore him whilst swimming in love was something Dean never experienced before, not with anyone else for that matter. And since there was a first for everything, the only thing that mattered most was that he didn’t have to fear rejection, but rather simply allow himself to be loved as gloriously and plentiful as was available.

“Tell me the story behind this,” he said afterwards, produced the guitar and turned it over to reveal the name of the song etched in the other man’s handwriting. And after blue eyes widened from the discovery, perhaps suddenly recalling the particular memory in the past, Dean studied the look of mild awe and waited.

But as he waited patiently, the only change unfolded in the tears slipping from pools of oceans wide and beautiful enough to drown him in. The actuality of bringing up a topic that proved to wound the other man was never his intention but apparently necessary as their eyes locked.

“It was…silly, really,” Castiel begun as he dabbed at his cheeks and then Dean reached over and used his thumbs to softly complete the job. The two of them gazed at each other as they seemed to do a lot more than before. “You and I were both quite in raptures over Bryan Adams when you were younger and as common ground, the song simply…came to mind."

Shaking his head, Dean swallowed and stared at the fireplace as the flames really and truly appeared like fiery snakes dancing around the logs. “Man, I was so stupid back then. The mistakes we make. You know, Lisa was never worth it, and I wasn’t in love with her. I think I just wanted to be with someone to prove to Sam and everyone else that nothing was wrong with me and I could have a girlfriend. Then I spent those couple years feeling like no one would ever fall in love with me wouldn’t even exist and I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep sometimes believing that I didn’t deserve love.”

“Dean, you deserve to be loved,” Castiel took the younger man’s hands between his and urged their eyes to meet. “Look at me.” Green orbs focused on his countenance, shyly expressing disbelief in his worth. “Haven’t I proven to you over and over again that I’ve loved you for so many years? Your inability to recognize your beauty wounds me because it is clear that you have never considered yourself remarkable as you should. As you _should_ , Dean,” curled fingers lightly caressed the other man’s jawline slowly. “When I look at you, all I see is the parts of me that I’ve been lacking since my life began. There is no one else besides you who completes me, and I—”

When the burst of energy consumed him enough to close the distance between them, Dean silenced Castiel with a chaste kiss at first and because the moment was so powerful, he pulled away immediately afterwards. Why? Because the feeling was too surreal and electric and almost as if a fire ignited from the connection that dizzied Dean’s mind tremendously.

Then they continued to gaze at each other, green eyes widening and blue ones blinking back slowly as both their chests heaved. And because Dean was so thirsty to ride through the rush of lightening again that curled his toes and awakened his senses, he danced their lips close again.

The second time felt like stepping into the warmest summer day in the middle of winter, where the sun’s rays were glorious on his face. No matter how perfect his dreams could conjure up tasting Castiel’s lips, in reality, he finally understood the complete definition of _bliss_. Of capturing the parted lips of the man he wanted more than anything in the world, tilting his head and slowly, and softly claiming the beauty of wine and warmth. And after Castiel balled his fists into Dean’s sweater, pulling him closer and capturing his bottom so seductively, biting and pulling, the air grew heavier between them.

He couldn’t breathe, no matter how suffocating it was as they rubbed their noses together and passion danced in their eyes. Dean wished only to die instead of breaking away, because if the moment ended then he would have to breathe again and breathing was sinful compared to kissing Castiel. There was so much more exposed when their tongues ended up tasting each other’s mouths, when Dean raked his fingers through the older man’s hair and pulled him in near enough as if trying to blend their souls. As if being together physically wasn’t enough and the need to delve deeper and slower was capable of kissing each other’s souls. And because he couldn’t understand why he was so lucky to finally come together with someone so special and beautiful and genuine, tears slipped through Dean’s closed eyelids.

When Castiel realized that their cheeks were wet, he slowly pulled away and after resting their foreheads together, Dean’s countenance was scrutinized. But as their lips brushed over and over again, green eyes revealed so much honesty that he captured the younger man’s face between his palms.

“My love, my beautiful darling, don’t cry,” Castiel whispered as his fingers curled Dean’s hair behind his ears, “are you sad? Have I done something wrong?” his voice cracked after suffering through fear and rejection.

He was so weak, swelling with contentment that Dean couldn’t contain himself. “No, you could never do anything wrong, Cas,” he said softly, as he tasted his own tears, “I’m not sad, I’m…so happy and I can’t believe that this is really happening to me. Is this really happening?”

“Yes,” the older man nodded as their foreheads rested together and blue eyes fluttered close, “most definitely it is not a dream and despite the magical feeling experienced when I’m kissing you, I don’t believe that it is a figment of my imagination. It cannot be because if it is, then I will have no reason to live longer because I must have you…Dean. I _must_ …” Castiel’s face contorted as he became overwhelmed with tears as well, “…have you. I cannot live without you.”

Wrapping his arms around the other man, Dean melted into an embrace that wasn’t like any other they shared, but completely consumed by the desperate need to feel each other, to draw closer and drown in their warmth. And after burying their faces into each other’s necks, their breathing became heavier as the desire between them to explore further grew heavier until blindly, Castiel reached for the guitar abandoned between their feet and resting on the floor. And after gently prying them apart, Dean still rubbing their cheeks together because he couldn’t let go, the older man settled into the chair and his trembling fingers caressed the guitar.

“I should have done this a few weeks ago,” Castiel said in his gravelly voice that faltered from Dean kissing his left cheek tenderly, “but I believe it might not have been the appropriate time.”

“You can…play?” the younger man’s voice was so husky and he tried to untangle his mind from the haze of passion that was thick between them.

“Of course,” Castiel tucked his left foot into the space between them that he suddenly created and the distance felt very uncomfortable. But it was most desired to gather a considerable amount of focus to proceed. “I taught you to play. Or have you forgotten?”

“I…” green eyes were still wide, dazed and wet from tears, “can’t remember when you did. I can’t remember anything right now. Dammit. My mind’s so fuzzy because we just... Shit.” Dean scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms. "We just actually had our first kiss…and my mind is reeling, you know?"

“Understood,” Castiel smiled and continued strumming. “Mine is too. So, to settle us a little…this song is dedicated to you Dean, but unfortunately it doesn’t belong to me but the wonderful Blake Sheldon.”

“Go ahead and make me mushier, Cas.” After settling into the chair and gazing intently, the younger man couldn’t help but admire the picturesque view of Castiel drowning in the music. “Go ahead and…make me fall in love with you over and over again.”

_“Don't have to leave this town to see the world_

_'Cause it's something that I gotta do,_ ” Castiel sang in a voice that was so beautiful and low and perfect.

_“I don't wanna look back in thirty years_

_And wonder who you're married to_

_Wanna say it now, wanna make it clear_

_For only you and God to hear_

_When you love someone, they say you set 'em free_

_But that ain't gonna work for me.”_

Dean stared back as the lyrics resonated with him in all honesty and folding his arms, he sunk deeper into the chair as Castiel locked eyes with him.

_“I don't wanna live without you_

_I don't wanna even breathe_

_I don't wanna dream about you_

_Wanna wake up with you next to me_

_I don't wanna go down any other road now_

_I don't wanna love nobody but you_

_Looking in your eyes now, if I had to die now_

_I don't wanna love nobody but you.”_

“Shit, Cas,” Dean croaked, eyes leaking abundantly as his lips trembled, and after shaking his head, he struggled to string scattered thoughts together. “You…” after trying to inhale deeply, the feeling just wouldn’t go away, of soaring off a cliff and landing on the softest clouds. “You’re going to…make me….” Then covering his face, he softly cried until Castiel’s arm looped around his waist and tugged him nearer and even then, he couldn’t compose himself as the older man’s embrace was so warm and reassuring.

“I've been thinking about what I want in my life,” Castiel sung softly, stroking Dean’s cheek slowly and pressing a kiss onto his hair, “it begins and ends the same. If I had to choose what I couldn't lose, there'd only be one thing. I don't wanna live without you…”

When the afternoon faded and the sunset’s warmth could not be felt because of the brutal coldness of winter, the two of them walked across the moor in each other’s arms. Snow boots crunching snow, thick jackets bracketing the winds, and scarves wrapped around their necks; from the window in the living room, Ellen sipped her cup of tea and smiled at the two budding lovers.

“Come look at this, John,” she hastened the older man, and immediately drew him away from poking the logs in the fireplace. “I got to tell ya, we’ll soon have a wedding. And guess who will be planning that? Ain’t nothing better than having a little fun in Littleton since the last time we had a wedding was mine. And this wedding,” she jerked her chin out the window, “will be even better than any other one.”

John chuckled after joining her by the parted curtains, and gently he wound an arm around Ellen’s waist. “Seems so. About damn time too if you ask me though. We did a good job raising him, didn’t we? God knows he had his childish moments but after waking up and getting with Cas, he’s changed.”

Dean indeed transformed into quite a different person in the days to follow the picnic on a sunny day that seemed so long ago. To Ellen, the changes were quite admirable and promising enough to reflect a young man blossoming from the child she grew accustomed to taking care of to a man. He wasn’t entirely youthful anymore but exhibited the polished qualities of someone who was finally witnessing a wider perspective in life.

“And then some,” she threw him a glance, “hell, the maid complained the other day that she doesn’t have much to do ‘round here anymore. Dean’s been baking, cooking, cleaning, plus he’s picked up the guitar again and his room’s never been so tidy.”

“I noticed. It’s what love does to people, Ellen. I think Cas creates that kind of peace he always needed but never wanted to chase. Sometimes this used to feel like he was just holding his breath. But now he’s just…flying.” And indeed, his son was flying, on a fleeting crescendo of happiness that seemed to offer so much warmth and respect.

“Look how sweet they are,” Ellen chuckled as Castiel and Dean softly kissed by the gate, their two coats of purple and green tangling together. “Never knew he had it in him though.”

“Who, Dean?” John frowned after she nodded. “Why you say so?”

“Being with another guy…seemed like something he wouldn’t be okay with.”

“Cas isn’t just a guy though, like you told me before, Ellen,” John said softly, moving to the door to unlock it as footsteps sounded on the patio, “he’s _Cas_. Mary trusted him with her life. And since he was always good enough for her, then he’s good enough for any one of us. Look what the afternoon dragged in!” extending his arms in glee, he collected Dean’s shoulders and squeezed.

After slipping his coat off and hanging it up though, Castiel’s flushed cheeks offered his two friends quite a delightful story. Ellen immediately blinked back with an impressed look on her face as if she clearly understood that a little more than words were exchanged between the pair. In fact, judging from the absence of words from a man she received an abundance of sentences from in the prior years, her estimation was confirmed and even further established from what followed.

“So, dad…Ellen,” Dean glanced back and reached for Castiel, entwining their fingers with the warmest smile as he evidently blushed a deep shade of pink, “I’m going to make it official and come right out and say that—”

“You’re engaged!” John dramatically clamped his hands upon his mouth and gasped, eyes wide and plenty affected by a smile. “Is it done then? Am I finally getting to give you away?”

“No,” Dean dipped his head and gazed at Castiel who was chuckling at his older friend’s reaction. “Don’t sound so relieved to get rid of me. Not as yet but—”

“Son of a bitch,” his father groaned and wandered towards the fireplace, splaying out his fingers to absorb the heat. “Waited so long already and nothing as yet. Just do it before I croak and you lower me into the damn ground. At least I’d like to meet your mother in Heaven and tell her that both our sons are successfully married. You get me?”

“I get you,” Dean rolled his eyes after John turned away and laughed at Ellen who in turn, slowly approached the pair by the door, clearly thrilled. “What I was going to say, is that we’re officially a couple. I mean it took some time for me to figure it out but we’re getting somewhere.”

“Officially a couple, eh?” his father huffed out a sigh and poked the logs, “that lightbulb took too long to brighten inside your head, didn’t it? You're slow to catch on, weren't you? Like the match that just wouldn't ignite no matter how long you scratch it and—"

“Ain’t you two adorable as ever?” Ellen collected them both into a warm embrace and buried her face into Dean’s right shoulder, “I’m glad as hell. I’ll start planning the wedding as soon as I get back home. Me and Charlie got our plates full from now with you two. Cas, you alive or what?”

“I’m alive. Just still in raptures over John’s impatience though. And you’re not going anywhere soon,” Castiel pressed a soft kiss onto Ellen’s right cheek and after ruffling Dean’s hair, he joined the older man by the fire who considered him with a mischievous look. “I’d rather much appreciate if you stuck around.”

“As long as it takes to see two settled down. How’s business with the Holmes in Broad Street?” Clapping his friend on the back, the two of them comfortably sat on the chair and awaited dinner.

Ellen though, still enveloped Dean in a warm hug as the two of them rocked to and fro. “See how worrying wasn’t worth it?” she recalled their last conversation at the picnic and sighed. “If it’s meant to happen, it always does and I just knew you would get your heart’s desire soon enough.” After sniffing his neck and clothes, she actually held him at arm’s length and chuckled. “You smell like him so I guess things are going damn good, huh?”

Dean sighed, blushed a little deeper and detached himself to prevent any further scrutiny. But after walking into the living room, his father called out to him and then a heated conversation on politics ensued to which he wished no participation but there was something that captured his attention. It was Castiel, sitting next to him and realizing that despite any topic, he would rather much remain right where he was because of being enraptured in the pangs of love.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies. I will be posting a new chapter Wednesday and Saturdays now.

**Excerpt:**

_"I think you’re convinced now that we’re not just best friends anymore. We’re…fuck buddies too.” Dean’s smiled widened because he was crossing barriers that were maintained before and now collapsed with so much ease._

_“Oh, really?” Castiel laughed hoarsely and seemed impressed, “you just flew over the terms boyfriends, soul mates, even lovers, and delved right into fuck buddies. Quite astonishing how your mind works all of a sudden."_

* * *

With one week remaining before Christmas, many surprises opened up like gifts, whether reflective of bad people or amazing occurrences, everyone was soon to discover that nothing should be taken for granted.

Immediately after shaving and overwhelming the entire house in the warmest scents of sandalwood and Irish Spring, Dean wandered to his bed and was just about to smoothen the covers when a familiar voice drifted from downstairs.

It was so early, a little past ten on a Friday and bitter cold still, the window sills packed high with an abundance of snow from the prior night. The coldness settling on Dean’s bed like a thin, invisible blanket and the absence of birds, their chirps most treasured were suddenly silenced as they burrowed into their nests. Therefore, the arrival of Castiel at such an hour definitely suggested that there was significant news of some kind, unless after three days of drowning in other people’s finances that kept them apart, he was longing to cast his eyes on Dean.

The latter thought roused him from the bedroom and immediately he descended the staircase with the main intent to entertain pride from being entirely missed, from being loved so much that separation caused pain and although he wished more than ever to keep them together every second of every day, Castiel still was employed and clients couldn’t wait. There would always be the distractions and the many details included in the phrase _other business_ that would arise with time, but he was always certain of one definite thing; that Castiel would never fall short of being the most loyal person he had ever known.

Dean literally rushed down the staircase with high hopes from locking their eyes, from anticipating the moment when they would kiss again, feel each other again, touch and allow their fingers to entwine. However, after highlighting his father turning away from his childhood friend and taking long strides to the window, fists clenched and appearing terribly angered, Dean’s first thought was that the two became entangled in a row. After searching blue eyes, nothing of such nature was revealed but the warmest love and admiration, the tender feeling of becoming captured once again in their own bubble that radiated with sincerity and understanding and bliss.

“Dean!” Castiel’s voice cracked and he tentatively closed the distance, softly embracing the younger man in a hug that was lingering enough to catch the attention of John. “How are you, my love?” tenderly caressing soft cheeks, smooth after shaving, he immediately captured the scent of the sandalwood aftershave and those blue eyes darkened from becoming consumed with desire.

“I’m…alright,” their lips danced nearer, and after his father turned to the window and smiled, Dean softly kissed Castiel as if the act was forbidden because they weren’t alone but it was deserving all the same. They managed to taste each other softly and lingered in the moment of bliss, their heads still tilted, warm breath escaping through parted lips and weakening their composure tremendously.

Dean, after lightly caressing the black leather collar of Castiel’s regal looking winter coat, danced his fingers over the older man’s shirt buttons because he was desperately aching to latch onto the kind of warmth that felt so comforting. It was so unfortunate that they needed each other so badly, in ways neither ever experienced and to simply want was a desire but to need was so much more. Needing Castiel, to Dean, felt like relying on oxygen, knowing that if the world was deprived of it, then all mankind would eventually die, just as he would if they couldn’t continue to touch, to kiss each other.

When his fingertips would thirst for the older man's skin, he sometimes wondered what else he would crave for when they were advancing on other feelings, like the depth of their kiss for instance, was so unbelievably real to Dean that he became frightened the moment it occurred. He couldn't cease replaying the magical spaces in time when Castiel sat so close to him on the couch in front of a warm fire, the scene so beautiful like a page from a fairytale. And they played songs to each other on his guitar, flirting with their eyes, stolen glances and touches that felt like tattoos on his arms, his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Castiel swallowed and raking his fingers through the younger man’s hair, he cleared his throat, then he collected Dean’s hands between his and squeezed, “I come bearing news which is of the most unfortunate nature but quite refreshing on my part because I am once again proved correct in my suspicions.”

“And you did a damn good job following your gut,” John turned around and pointed at his friend, obviously wishing to approach the topic again.

“What happened?” Dean searched blue eyes that returned to a mellow shade and then he considered his father glaring at the fire from the window. “Did Sam finally cut his hair?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head and chuckled, relieved by the ease of tension from light humor, “I’m afraid no one can be convincing enough to make _that_ a reality. What did happen though, is news reaching me this morning that Crowley has been incarcerated for two shocking offences; drug trafficking,” he studied the look of astonishment in green eyes, “and prostitution. The former of which he had been conducting for years in this very same town, which leads me to now believe that he was the sole supplier to no other than Amelia.”

“Cas, are you serious?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper because the actuality of the whole matter unfolding so terribly was shocking enough to force him to rethink every single suggestion made to encourage a match between Charlie and a criminal.

Crowley a criminal? Surely not? There must be a mistake, which would be made evident after the two older men revealed that this was all just a joke. What happened to believing the best in people especially since their stations in life were obviously convincing of carrying around a _holy_ reputation? It felt like his belief system was crumbling week after week and he could not build it up faster than expected because the world was changing and shifting.

Highlighting the look of regret on the younger man’s countenance, Castiel softened and rested a comforting hand on Dean’s right shoulder. “I’m afraid the charges are backed up by substantial evidence and eyewitnesses’ stories and this is where the plot thickens,” he turned to John and stared back in disbelief, “the bastard was using the church as a makeshift brothel. The basement. Good God.” Immediately his glare focused on the fire, flames eating at the logs. “Men, Dean. Young men held against their will and ransomed off to the highest bidder whilst he pocketed everything and funded an underground cartel in Baltimore.”

Sinking his thigh onto the arm of the nearest chair, Dean blinked slowly as the information seeped in and awakened a sense of absolute fear, becoming aware now that for years something so horrible was occurring in such a quiet town that observed crime at a minimum. Now Littleton would evidently make the newspapers, and especially linked to a religious institution that the town relied on to continue their close bonds with each other?

Dean was baptized in the same church, by no other than a younger version of Crowley who used to appear so meek and deserving of the benefit of the doubt because he was a man of the cloth. And if they couldn’t trust a priest, then what else was new?

“So, naturally the flock of investigators will follow, if they haven’t arrived already,” John said to Castiel who wandered to the younger man’s side and lightly massaged behind his neck with those graceful fingers. “How the hell could this happen right under our noses, Cas? I couldn’t even smell a rat for years now like you did and I feel damn ashamed for it. The man should have never been trusted. He should be hung!”

“The worst part is, I kind of picked up something off about him a while ago and didn’t think nothing much of it because I mean, he’s a freaking…priest…deacon…whatever the hell he is and when he…” Dean glanced away, shook his head and sighed, “anyway, I stupidly brushed it off.”

John’s immediate response was to latch his worried eyes onto Castiel who collected the younger man’s chin into his grasp and lifted green eyes to meet his own frightful ones.

“When he _what_ , Dean?”

At the time, the situation was unnerving but one tends to brush such things under the mat, especially when the occurrence was inside a rectory and then outside in the garden. “He…made some comments, that’s all. Kind of made me uncomfortable.”

“What…” Castiel inhaled deeply as he tried to gather composure, “…comments?” And John who searched his friend’s demeanor discovered that anger was rarely an emotion that crossed the other man’s face but evidently was in abundance and deserving immediately. "What did he do to you?"

Dean though, after sighing from broaching the topic, shrugged and stood up to face Castiel who immediately expressed his disapproval in any decision to withhold information. “Complimenting me and asking for my number…just like that he wanted my cell. And he used the silly excuse of talking to me about joining back the choir. I told him that hey, we have the church number pinned to the damn wall right by the phone so I don’t need to give him mine. Afterwards, well he seemed pretty interested in what I have planned for my future and how I was going to go about getting things done. Then he made some comments when I was there a day and wandering in the garden…Thinking about it now…he was just being a perv.”

“Oh, he definitely was,” Castiel nodded and suddenly threw his hands up in the air, quite agitated by the whole affair, “mark my words! I will ensure that he’s buried so deep, he rots in a jail cell quite unfit for any human. He had no right making advances on you. None!”

“Cas…the law takes care of scoundrels.”

“No, John,” clenching his fists, Castiel stared into the fire as if willing Crowley to appear and become engulfed in the flames. “The law makes accommodations for scoundrels. Fancy prisons with decent food, enough to satisfy their existences and forcing them to believe that what they did could be forgiven. Not by me! This is far too much for me to stomach and three times he has overstepped into my life, abusing the people that matter most to me; Amelia, Dean and Claire—"

“Wait, what?” Dean’s immediate reaction was to stare at Castiel whose chest rose and fell from a generous exertion of energy. “Claire? What the hell did he do to Claire?”

He was always so protective of the young woman and had been for many years because when she yearned for a male figure in her life, believing that she couldn't ever run into the comforting hands of her father, she chose his company. For such a long time she was his little rogue princess, the one who followed him to the library and stayed with him whilst he completed projects and papers and never did she ever complain. Her wild mane of blonde hair was always ruffled by his playful hands and she could never be a nuisance no matter how often her antics played out to be just that.

“Actually, Claire was the one who lured him out into the open. He didn’t lay a hand on her because if he did, believe me, Dean, he wouldn’t be alive today. She learned of her friends obtaining their drugs from a very shady character and followed the dealer to a scanty looking bar on the outskirts of Littleton. From there, they examined his patterns of transportation and traced everything right back to the church. Of course, a young man went missing from Penny’s Lane, two towns away and as you both know, Claire has a fondness in solving mysteries so naturally, she chased the trail and unearthed this disgusting plot.” Castiel splayed his hands out before the fire.

Dean observed that the older man’s fingers trembled slightly and he moved forth, collecting them into his gloved ones. “I should have listened to you instead of thinking that he’s some kind of a saint. The amount of people he probably hurt, it’s…” their eyes met and green ones pleaded for forgiveness that was given easily.

“Let’s not dwell on what was and let’s focus on what _is_ going to happen going forward,” Castiel said softly after the hurtful conversation they both entertained about matching Charlie with Crowley was remembered. “What must follow evidently is, like your father highlighted, the appearance of law enforcement which will cast a terrible light onto the town for a few days or a few weeks. Very unfortunate that this has to happen around Christmas but there is no rest for the wicked, I’m afraid. And the media will desire nothing more than to devour such a story.”

“And what about if they come around here sniffing? What then?” John pointed out the obvious, which Dean was pondering on for a full minute.

“Answer the most obvious questions of the simplest nature and if their schemes prove to be most uncomfortable, give my brother a ring. Balthazar would be more than pleased to utilize his credentials as an attorney to intimidate them. And Dean,” Castiel’s voice as always, softened after addressing the younger man, “please do not relate what you’ve just told us about the bastard’s advances to anyone else, especially not the police. They will wish to use you as a witness of which I’m certain that such a thing would cause you discomfort.”

Nodding slowly, thankful too that the older man could clearly understand him without having to provide further clarity, Dean sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s best to leave those spaces open for the victims who really and truly suffered from the whole damn thing, right?”

“Right, and this is where I take my leave to return to the workshop,” John headed towards the door leading into the kitchen, “Cas, keep me updated as the story unfolds. We’ll talk more at dinner.”

After he departed to join Bobby since the workload increased because of the holidays, the two remaining in the living room, gazed intensely at each other before diverting their eyes. Blushing cheeks and small smiles accompanied the comfortable silence and then as Castiel settled on the chair before the fire, unwrapping a bright yellow scarf around his neck, Dean reached for the poker and stoked the fireplace. Bright embers danced about, reflected in blue eyes that studied the younger man’s actions and roamed the contours of a body he wished wasn’t bundled up in so many clothes.

Dean, on the other hand, was quite aware of his advantageous position, and after his neck began to burn from the intense scrutiny, he quickly glanced at Castiel and caught him red-handed. Immediately, the older man blushed even deeper, chewing on his lips and casting off those mellow blue eyes onto the wall by the telephone. His left shoe tapped two times upon the polished hardwood floor, then he purposely played with the tangle of the scarf between his fingers until both hands were buried in yellow.

How could a human being be the embodiment of such a beautiful angel? Dean couldn't believe how fortunate he was to actually have such an adorable and handsome miracle buried in his life because there was no one else who ever marveled him as much as Castiel managed to do. Everything about the older man was incredible, such as his habits, his excessive speeches, abundant happiness, depth and sincerity. He couldn’t believe how their friendship changed so quickly, from a time when he could simply stand there and gaze upon Castiel as a friend, now his eyes wandered and his heart leapt with adoration and joy.

Quickly becoming consumed by the dire need to flirt, Dean wandered over to the chair and stood directly in front of Castiel, hands hanging down his sides.

His attire was so comfortable despite the weather and since the fire could not completely dull the coldness, Dean’s blue turtleneck sweater covered over by a long-sleeved black shirt served as a cocoon. Matched with his black jeans and another pair of pants underneath, again he was wearing too much clothing and so was Castiel still sheltered inside his expensive looking leather jacket buttoned up to his neck and a bowler hat resting comfortably on his lap. 

“Hi,” Dean beamed, tongue tucked between two perfect rows of teeth and completely in love.

Castiel lifted his gaze and smiled back, his chest heaving as he suffocated from the chemistry between them. “Hello.”

“Cat got your tongue?” Curling into the chair, socked feet tucked under, the younger man chuckled as blue orbs slowly blinked at the fire. Castiel appeared so composed as always, back as stiff as a poker and handsome enough to tempt Dean’s fingers to reach out and lightly caress soft strands of thick hair resting behind the older man’s neck. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that you’re in love with someone.”

“I am indeed,” Castiel smiled as his hands twisted the peak of his hat. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But forgive me for being so…reserved. The whole affair with Crowley is daunting to say the least, and I cannot help but ponder on the possibility of him purposely contributing to Amelia’s demise. She was easily accessing PCP, meth and several other barbiturates, Dean,” he turned to the younger man and expressed his worried countenance. “And when I say _easily,_ I am referring to her lack of finance to purchase these drugs in abundance. You see, Amelia was jobless, and relied mostly on my support which I offered willingly from my allowances at the time. Now, as I examine the patterns of her behavior, after she returned to Littleton and was quite aware of her pregnancy, he must have been the blasted supplier.”

Dean shook his head and cast an angry look at the fire because the idea was ridiculous to entertain but possible and because it was possible, his inability to relax his absolute hatred for Crowley was displayed. “You never did anything to him though. So, why the hell would he hold a grudge?”

“My brother,” Castiel said with certainty, immediately drawing green eyes onto him, “Crowley tried to lure Balthazar into his trade, asking for a donation of a substantial amount of money and when he didn’t get his way…of course, he developed a grudge.”

“But what does that have to do with _you_ , Cas?”

“I was the one who advised Balthazar to turn down the partnership,” the silence rested between them as the older man allowed his eyes to be searched and he openly invited scrutiny whilst revealing everything he could. “Most definitely, he assumed that based on my persuasions, the matter was cast away but apart from that, I also learned that something else was strange. Balthazar has always possessed a… _gaydar_ as the modern folk call it. The ability to detect another gay person easily.”

“I’ve heard about that,” Dean smiled from the fond memory of Charlie examining the many terms during their binge on The L Word. He could never dispel his attraction towards Carmen, and his slight jealously towards Shane.

“Well, he pointed out to me that Crowley’s intentions were a little too biased, meaning that he possibly considered my brother as a romantic interest. And I believe he made advances which were turned down by Balthazar…”

“You’re kidding me. As a damn priest, he flirted with another dude?” when Castiel nodded slowly, fingers still twisting the peak of the black hat, Dean scoffed. “Man, you learn something every day apparently. So, basically this means that when I thought he was going after Charlie, he was coming after me. All the times he suddenly appeared on this part of town could mean that... Son of a bitch!”

“You _are_ very attractive,” Castiel tried to add a bit of humor into their conversation after identifying the twisted storm developing inside the other man’s eyes. “Any man or woman would find you appealing enough to turn their eyes and conduct a generous scrutiny. Dean, you are beautiful in every sense of the word.”

“Yeah, thanks but he can’t come after me, dammit. I’m reserved for you, remember?” winking and offering a mischievous smile, Dean settled back on the chair and provided an advantageous display of his body. Taking the bait, the older man’s gaze swept across the slack loops empty from hugging a belt and then the evident bulge in Dean’s pants. “Like what you see, Cas?”

Castiel swallowed and immediately crawled his eyes slowly upwards until those blue orbs rested on parted lips. “It would be very unbecoming of me to admit otherwise, don’t you think?”

“It would be. Unbutton your coat,” Dean’s voice grew huskier and after the older man stared back, he merely waved a hand, gesturing for Castiel to comply. “Come on, lose some of the layers, man. I can’t stop trying to imagine what you look like and it’s driving me crazy. And I know you have a bunch of clothes underneath your coat so it’s not like I can—” when Castiel boldly complied though, going at the buttons one by one on his black leather coat from the top and leading past his chest, Dean’s eyes widened. “Jesus.” He gulped as the fancy black suede suit revealed itself underneath, one that he never witnessed before and immediately admired. “Dude, you’re covered in money and it’s so damn sexy.”

“Actually, I dressed this way to impress you,” the older man pulled the flaps of his leather coat further away and then deliberately reached for the front of his jacket. Slowly unbuttoning that as well, the soft material very beautiful and tempting to touch, he pushed it aside to reveal a midnight blue shirt and after shifting his position on the chair, turning to face Dean, he settled into the same position the other man offered with a very suggestive look on his face. Legs splayed a little, one arm resting on the arm of the chair and turned slightly to suggest so much more intent in revealing whatever was clearly circling around his mind.

“I’ve never had someone do that.”

“Do what?” Castiel’s openness in his countenance was enough to soften the younger man’s heart immensely. “I’d do anything for you, Dean.”

Far too impressed by the sincere honesty and willingness to push past any barrier that could arise, Dean was openly astounded and his cheeks colored. “I’m talking about someone dressing up for me. You know,” he gestured at the fancy outfit that reeked of money, “someone who would go out of their way just to find something to impress me. I mean, it’s not what I’m used to.”

“Well, in that case,” Castiel shifted on the chair and a soft smile played on his lips, “maybe you should get used to this…because I intend to exceed your expectations for as long as I live.”

Dean swallowed and his green eyes widened because being so suggestive was becoming the norm between the two of them. “We talking about sex or…generally?”

Never failing to provide a response, the older man maintained his composure and sighed. “Whenever the need may arise, I will always do my best to go beyond what you would anticipate. Why are you looking at me as if I’ve sprouted another head?”

“Because you…” when holding his breath was obvious after growing a little dizzy, Dean’s parted lips provided enough clarity that he was far too affected by emotions. “Cas, I just…this is so new to me…someone I’ve been so attached to all my life, who knows me so well, knows what are my weaknesses, what I like…you’ve become so much more so suddenly. And now when my mind just goes _there_ , in all manner of speaking, getting intimate with you…I kind of still don’t believe that I’m so lucky.”

“If I may perhaps explain how much control you have over me through poetry,” Castiel said softly, playing his fingers upon the younger man’s right thigh and studying the gesture, “I would describe it as every pore on my body just screaming in anticipation for your touch, thirsty to live through the moments when we will…” he stopped and their eyes met and because Dean could feel the weight of so much longing inside their bodies, he understood the pause.

He couldn’t believe how desperately he needed Castiel, how he wanted to take the older man’s hand, climb the stairs and peel off their clothes. Those thoughts were becoming so strong, experienced in bolder colors as the time progressed and no matter how difficult it was to restrain himself, Dean simply could not prevent his mind from wandering.

It was so torturous for him to witness the darkened blue and penetrating gaze, that he couldn’t help but admire the merchandise on display since the intention was abundantly clear. Castiel was calling out to him to be touched, to be taken in any way that he wished to allow and there he was, hesitant and fearful of not knowing what to do. And because he was so conflicted by his actions, he instead allowed his eyes as usual to touch as much as he could.

“Do you like what _you_ see?”

“Yeah.”

"Then…I'm yours…"

"Like…" Dean turned around on the chair and glanced towards the kitchen anxiously before returning his wide stare, " _right now_? You want me to kiss you right here?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and smiled through his flush of contentment before shrugging. "Yes. I want…no…I _need_ you to…" the older man studied the slow, tentative movements as the distance between them was eaten up.

Taking his time because he was of course abundantly nervous, Dean leaned in and offered a peck, barely there and so soft at first until they stayed for two seconds and barely parted. An inch was enough to initiate heavy torment, in the span of three more seconds, green eyes blinked twice whilst lifting to the ceiling as if trying on a pair of shoes to decide whether they were most comfortable. Then after believing that he would possibly drown in the momentary feel of bliss, however small it was, Castiel rushed in and crushed their lips together. And the throaty moan that escaped from within Dean surprised him so much that he faltered from losing composure, he melted, sinking into the older man's space and very soon, the world around them didn't exist.

Castiel literally wound his arms around like a comforting shell and pulled Dean towards him, until he was leaning onto the arm of the chair. Whilst the fire crackled the logs, both of them folded into each other like soft souls blending, the younger man adjusting himself between Castiel's thighs and dying from becoming lost in the depth of their lips searching, their tongues…so much more tongue than before. All of it was blissful and perfect the way they fitted together, raking his fingers through dark, wild hair and tilting Castiel's chin upwards to accommodate him savoring the warm arch of the older man's neck. And he was merely reaching in the dark, believing that he was doing everything wrong until that one simple reaction by both of them to bring their hips together…

When Dean felt how powerful the connection was, despite the layers of fabric which felt so burdensome too, he gasped into their kiss. His chest shuddered, a deep, hot kind of warmth gathered in his gut and butterflies were chased away to be replaced by licking flames of fire. Because the feeling of Castiel under him forced Dean to rethink every single belief he ever entertained about their chemistry, their profound bond, the way they always seemed to drift towards each other on a normal basis. Now all of it was replaced by the stunning truth that they were gloriously reacting to each other in ways Dean never imagined before, because he could feel how their bodies opened up, how Castiel's breathing became raspy and he arched his hips to bring them closer together.

Dean hated clothes in that moment; he despised fabrics of any kind, of things that concealed them from each other, of shoes and socks, boxers and ties. He loathed scarves and coats, vests and anything else because all of those things were barriers between them and he honestly believed that if he could have peeled away all of Castiel's clothing in that moment, he would have blindly reached into the dark and experimented in the best way he could. His hands were already wandering, thirsty to feel the planes of the older man's chest and his head was dizzied by the tightness of his pants, the way they couldn't separate from each other, they couldn't allow an inch between them because such a thing would suffocate them both.

A couple of sharp knocks sounded on the door, and Dean groaned, throwing back his head and blinking up at the ceiling. “Dammit, who the hell could that be now, man?” he croaked, pushing his torso up as fingers still played with his hair. "I swear to God I'm not answering the damn door." When the knocking persisted, he pressed their foreheads together and offered a soft peck that caused them to drown again until Dean decided that they were possibly trying to seduce each other in the wrong location at the wrong time. "I hate the world," he untangled himself and sat up still dazed.

Castiel shrugged, hastily buttoning up his jacket and sitting up straight as he tried to gather composure although the blush creeping up his neck was far too obvious. “Charlie, maybe?”

“Can’t be her, she’s got a craft session with the kids at Saint Anne’s all day.” With a petulant demeanor, Dean dragged his feet to the door and without peering through the peephole, he pushed up the latch.

From the moment he cast his eyes on the person standing on the patio though, he couldn’t believe the miraculous sight before him, so sudden and strange, there was only one response. Dean gasped, stared in disbelief and continued to do so even after the other man smiled widely and came forth with his arms extended.

“Benny?”

“My brother, it’s been too damn long.”

Mind still a bit hazy, he blinked a few times before realizing that everything was real and much brighter and colorful. It wasn't an apparition but definitely a ghost from his past that still presented itself. Pulling his friend into a tight embrace, Dean’s eyes burned from holding back the tears after recollecting their farewell seven years prior when Benny decided to leave Littleton because the town suffocated him too much. Now, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, but quite mature enough to sport a well-lined beard, the same neat haircut and a few more pounds of course added on by his muscular arms and toned figure. And because the two of them spent a considerable amount of time for a span of two years confiding and trusting each other, after they separated from the hug, their gaze lingered long enough.

“You look damn good,” Benny boldly considered his friend from head to toe, drinking in the dark blue long-sleeved shirt coupled with a black comfortable scarf wound around his friend’s neck and a pair of faded blue jeans, “then again, you always did. Never short on the appeal. Always short on the good romances though.”

“Screw you,” Dean smiled and shook his head, knowing fully well that if there was one person who understood the true struggles with Lisa and Jo, it was definitely the man standing in front of him. “Come in. Hate to keep you out in the cold. You back for good or…?”

“Traveled enough, you know,” Benny entered the house and carefully assessed the interior to detect any changes from the last time he entertained the likes of the Winchesters’ home. “Seems like the more you travel, the more you miss this place. Missed you a lot though. Kept thinking what you were up to during these years, whether some girl tied you down, if you got kids.”

“None of those actually,” Dean relaxed his footsteps as he walked into the living room and discovered Castiel standing but leaning onto the back of the chair that both of them previously occupied…abundantly and passionately. He might never be able to cast his gaze on that piece of furniture again without imagining the two of them combined together.

From the moment the older man cast his eyes on the newcomer though, after familiarity passed across a face that was too handsome for Dean to ever grow accustomed to, a sense of curiosity piqued in those blue eyes. Most of all, what was ascertained was the question of why Benny was suddenly in the room and in town again. Then there was the sudden recollection of Castiel’s confession; lamenting on his jealousy felt many years ago in terms of the friendship the two other men entertained.

Dean thought, in all honesty, that the painful experience the older man must have felt to witness the bond between himself and Benny could have been very much understood. Back then, they were inseparable, leaving Castiel to wonder whether the company was of a destructive nature or rather much worthy enough to derive some good. In truth, what occurred was a mixture of both because whilst their little escapades proved thrilling, there were a few things done that Dean would never feel too proud of; like overusing weed and losing control of himself so much that he misplaced close to six hours and woke up on the backseat of the Impala parked somewhere on the outskirts of Littleton.

Or the times when he and Benny mixed cocktails that left them too giddy to avoid clumsy public displays. Those stories apparently never reached John’s ears, but had he known, then the rage would follow and the two of them would suffer from the aftermath. If Castiel only became aware of those instances… then Dean would not be spared an extreme scolding.

“You remember Cas,” he smiled warmly at the older man who searched his eyes still as Benny drifted forward to offer a handshake. The situation was awkward enough but required in a manner of respect and of course, showing friendliness at least. “Uh,” Dean scratched the back of his neck and struggled with further introductions, “Cas, you remember this jerk, obviously.”

“Don’t be so mean,” Benny took the hand Castiel reluctantly offered and shook it with glee registered on his face, “damn good to see familiar faces again. Haven’t aged at all and still look expensive as fuck, just like the taller one who was always flaunting.”

“We don’t…flaunt,” the older man said with barely a trace of a smile, obviously displeased by the appearance and likes of the ghost from the past that should have stayed away. “It’s a surprise to see you returned. I must admit that your departure seemed most definite.”

“A rolling stone always comes back home,” Benny clapped Dean on the arm and after pulling his head back, a careful assessment was once again done. “Man, you still look like them damn spoiled rich white folk. Didn’t I break you out to last a good few years as a rogue? You still got your nose in those books and studies? All those boring things that’s going to only give you a boring life?”

Castiel’s blue eyes gathered a storm and because Dean was privy to the older man never growing accustomed to Benny’s sarcasm, he instantly decided that the meeting between the two was not going unfold quite nicely.

“Still hitting the books,” he supplied and forcefully laughed as if the idea itself was a joke, “what’s the latest with you though?”

Benny wandered to the window and hands shoved in his pockets, he stared outside, “luck doesn’t follow me anywhere, my brother. Jumped from town to town trying to make something work and after hitting rock bottom with this business I opened up, I just gave up the whole bar scene. You know, most times you believe you could do it but then you can’t. Had a good round of romance though,” he turned to smile at Dean who was pleading silently with Castiel to release the worry and tension.

“Yeah? Some girl tied _you_ down or what?”

Benny sighed and turned back to the window, eyes distant as he assessed the moor covered in a thick blanket of snow. “You know girls never been my thing. Don’t get why you thought it was different though. You ever seen me with a lady on my arm?”

By then, Dean was leaning onto the chair next to Castiel and sparing not an inch of distance between them, desperate to provide some kind of clarity to the situation. “Come to think of it, not at all. But I always thought you were just choosing not to get one, you know?”

“The choices we make. What about you?” Benny turned around and studied the pair glued together and he smiled comfortingly. “Ever been with anyone apart from your books?”

“Took me almost five years filled with nothing…to discover that I always had something special going on right here,” Dean maintained eye contact and reached for Castiel’s right hand. Entwining their fingers, his eyes warmed with so much love, the older man, after blinking at him in awe, instantly relaxed with a sigh.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Benny stared back in disbelief and after gathering the truth, he laughed heartily. “Never thought you had it in you, my brother! I couldn’t see this coming a mile away. But then when I think about it, this was always meant to be. You two were always inseparable. Just…never thought…” shaking his head, he seemed impressed.

“Yeah, well love makes the most unexpected things happen,” Dean felt like he was sitting on top of the world whilst holding Castiel’s hand, and understanding for a fact that the display of jealousy was far too admirable than discouraging.

“You got him before I ever could,” this Benny directed at the older man who barely inched a smile across his face. “Tried hard to make something happen but no success since he was busy rolling around with those two. Got the feeling after a while that he wouldn’t turn because he loved the sex so much. Now it’s something to see that he switched teams. I guess things changed around here a lot.”

Dean studied his friend’s face and determined that he was more pleased than disappointed by his match with Castiel, and maybe their past tangled up together for many reasons, but becoming a couple back then was never something that he favored. If someone whispered into his ear that down the road, he would be in a relationship with another man, the outright mockery on the topic would have caused him to turn down their predictions as ludicrous. But with everything said and done, his friendship with Benny was always strong, and as rebellious as their escapades were, many things were experienced and learned from.

Standing in the sun, waiting on Lisa who disappeared into the boutique and suddenly deciding that they would get inked up. Fishing together by the pond and both of them barbequing their catches with extra sauce and pepper. Wildly screaming in the night behind Benny as both of them raced down the highway on a borrowed Harley and ended up on the outskirts of the town.

Most of those were never to be tried again because Dean didn’t wish to but it was the adrenaline rushes that would never be forgotten.

“Balthazar still around these parts?” Benny suddenly asked after Castiel excused himself to prepare a cup of tea. “The older…hotter one…” these words he whispered with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, he still lives over there,” Dean jerked his chin towards the window where the Novak mansion loomed in the distance. “And he’s definitely not the hotter one. Cas is drop dead gorgeous and so worth it. You get a good laugh out of that,” he shook his head as Benny expelled his humor heartily, “and whilst you’re enjoying yourself, just try to not mention those things we did back then like the drugs and one-night stands…”

“Brother, you can’t be with someone as uptight as _him_. You need wild nights and bright days, not expensive leather jackets, Perry Ellis cologne and Louis Vuitton shoes. Added to that, he clearly never swung pendulums with any other man before and who’s going to show you a good time? Definitely not him.”

Truth is, he _wanted_ all of those things in a man because his ideal partner would have always been someone like Castiel. And if Dean could brush back over the years and try to ponder on what exactly he hoped to discover as worthy in someone else, all of those qualities were already possessed by the older man. Why? Because from the moment he was born, Dean would have always latched himself onto Castiel and aspired to be as great as he revealed himself to be. There was no room for anyone else to match those expectations and because he favored the expensive things and the sophisticated persona, he could not agree with such a statement.

“There’s so much more to romance than sex, Benny,” Dean realized the fire was growing dimmer so he wandered towards the hearth and stoked it until the flames brightened. “I’m not the kind of guy who wants a wild life. You know that, man. Always knew that I preferred boring things that you wouldn’t even consider as normal. And FYI, it’s kind of my choice anyway. He’s my choice.”

Benny nodded slowly but still appeared humored by the whole ordeal and after glancing at the kitchen door that remained empty, he approached his friend, hands still buried inside his pockets. “Respect all the way for defending what you want when I couldn’t even do it all these years. Between you and me, brother, there’s something I got to tell you that might not be as good as understanding it all now. But before he comes back…your adorable angel, you remember a couple years ago when I left, I said that there were demons here I couldn’t shake off?”

Frowning, Dean recalled their last conversation that was bountiful of emotions and prolonged embraces and he nodded slowly after recalling the suspicion of someone or something pushing his friend away from Littleton. "Yeah, and you never really said anything much before hitting the road."

“The reason why I couldn’t stick around, is because the older one and me…had something going.”

“What?” Dean’s voice was barely audible as he stared back in disbelief. “Balthazar?”

“Same one,” Benny sighed, moved to the telephone and studied the list of names and numbers printed on a yellow cardboard. “Blame it on you for introducing us that one time you had a gig going on over here. Caught my eyes, he did and apparently so did I because we began something that we could never finish. Thing is…” his voice dipped as he picked up a white ceramic rabbit that was one of Ellen’s gift to John a few years ago, “…the romance was hot as fire, but since we were from different worlds, and I was years younger, he cast me aside and called me a child. And all these years, I’ve been trying to find all the things he gave me in everyone who tried to get down with me. You know, the worst part of heartbreak is knowing that it could be something good,” Benny turned to sadly stare at Dean, “but the factors aren't right. Age…status. Him rich, me poor as fuck—”

“Dean, would you and your friend wish a cup of tea?” Castiel peered out from the kitchen, cheeks flushed from devouring his usual choice of ginger, lemon and lemon. “The kettle has more than enough left back for a party of eight.”

Although terribly astounded by Benny’s confession, Dean immediately latched onto the love of his life, and softened from the connection of their eyes. “Nah, thanks, huggy bear,” he smiled warmly and declined for his friend who never favored hot beverages but would rather a cold beer “You good back there?”

“I…um,” Castiel swallowed after his stare flicked to the ghost from the past standing by the telephone, “would prefer to give you two time to catch up whilst I…sit at the table in here and tune in to the Golden Oldies channel on the radio. Nothing like a good round of melodies whilst having a cup of tea.”

The sense of comfort and happiness sought out from the simplest things would always make Dean fall more in love with the man lingering by the doorway to the kitchen. He favored waking up before the sun rose just to savor the glow of orange rising in the sky. Those things were too beautiful to be ever ignored by Dean who inquired whether his friend wished a beer but the offer was turned down respectfully.

“Alright,” he glanced at Benny who offered a wildly fascinated look, clearly confused why the match was somehow deemed as ideal. “Knock yourself out and have as much tea as you want. Don’t drown in there though.”

“I promise I wouldn’t, my darling.” And after disappearing again, the static from the radio was heard for a few seconds until the soft tunes of Paul Anka’s ‘Diana’ drifted into the living room.

Benny snorted and his shoulders shook from containing his chuckles, evidently intrigued by the likes of the other character. “Man, you’re going to regret this so much.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean plopped onto the chair and smiled at the fire as his friend joined him with eyes shining from wonder. “To me, I’ve known him for all my life. Meaning, all his quirks, everything and I love him so much because he’s just always who he _is_. Nothing different. And believe me, you’re probably going to tell me that a younger dude would cut it for me but I don’t want someone else because Cas and I…we understand each other, man.”

“Once you love him, you hang onto that for as long as ever. I’m just not going to believe that he’s going to be that good in bed though judging from his age. But my brother, there’s Viagra. “

“He’s only forty-five!” Dean heavily whispered at Benny who amusingly considered the flames before them. “Come on, you should talk. Balthazar is ten years older than Cas. And he’s going strong as ever from what I’ve heard about his relationships.”

Suddenly, the light in his friend’s eyes dulled and immediately he regretted the slip of his tongue, knowing that if positions were reversed and he was in such a situation, then Castiel moving on would literally kill him in every possible way.

Benny sighed and cast a wary glance at the window before settling onto the chair. “Well, didn’t expect him to hang around waiting for me. You know how it goes, brother. People move on and change for the better or the worst. And here I am stuck in the past, wondering if we still stand a chance.”

Dean realized with certainty that Benny still harbored feelings for Castiel’s older brother, feelings that never went away with time but perhaps grew stronger. Judging from his friend’s countenance, he was struggling to withhold so much more information that was too precious to expose and because Dean was never conscious of the two ever entertaining a romance in the past, he suddenly recalled every instance there was.

The first time he introduced the two was at a Thanksgiving dinner when Castiel brought Balthazar over, and Benny was eighteen at the time, five years older than Dean. And the pair spent a considerable amount of time chatting, seated on two chairs near the opened door and occasionally gazing out at the fountain bubbling before winter.

Now though, when he brushed back through the years and wondered where Benny disappeared off to some weekends, flying low under the radar for an afternoon or two, perhaps he was in Balthazar’s company. And because Dean never really detected the romance happening right in his circle, he felt embarrassed and wounded as a friend who could not focus long enough to understand the truth. And when Benny left, promising that they would catch up after he returned to his family in the mountains and awakened their surprises from his appearance after eight years, he left Dean filled with so much to digest.

He didn’t relate the affair to Castiel, although such a thing pained him to withhold information because he decided that Benny needed to be given the chance to dissect his own personal affairs. He needed to settle down long enough to decide what would happen going forward, and if the opportunity arose for things to be remedied, then of course Castiel would become privy to those developments.

"Had enough tea, baby love?" he tried the nickname and received a deep flush of the older man's face. Then feeling quite bold, he tried Castiel's lap as a comfortable seat, reached for the cup of tea captured by those beautiful hands and very soon, they were kissing.

But it wasn't ever like the prior kisses apparently because every single time they tasted each other, most of the seconds felt like slipping into heaven where the flowers bloomed beneath the warm blue sky, comforted by warm yellow rays. In Castiel's arms, Dean found a sense of home that was complete and toe curling, tilting his head sideways and searching deeper, pressing in further until he unearthed a moan. The sound of someone…not just _someone_ but Castiel unwinding in such a soft melody was enough to settle Dean's world into a level place.

He entertained the fact that a lack of breathing suffocated him because kissing the one person he loved more than himself felt like everything wrong in his life was finally being changed into everything perfect. And they were kissing, Dean thought through the process of drowning in the taste of honey and lemon and ginger. They were actually kissing each other like lovers and allowing their senses to tingle from touch, from desire, from scents and everything else.

"How is it possible…that I caught on so slowly after you did?" Dean croaked when their noses nudged together and his fingers still marked pathways in the older man's hair. "How could I be so damn blind…when you were right there in front of me?"

Castiel smoothened his palm down the awfully _posh_ sweater that many people loved to mock and he chuckled. "Possibly because of many factors. My role in your life for instance, as well as my age. Added to that, the general acceptance that our matched gender proved to be quite unworthy of further scrutiny on your part to… _want_ me as more than simply another man who exists in your life."

"But I want you now," Dean confirmed with enough honesty as they gazed at each other. "Like I told you before, my mind wanders and when it does, I go places with you that are damn sinful. Like there are things that we do in my dreams that would probably shock you and blame it on Queer as Folk—"

"Oh, you've been watching that, have you?" Castiel's eyes sparkled as his lips stretched into a smile. "You've been perusing gay content just like I managed to do over these past few years. Understandable," he nodded for emphasis whilst his fingers curled behind Dean's right ear, "for research purposes, of course. There is nothing wrong with that except that what you see on television might not be matched to what is experienced in reality."

"Humor me, Cas…" Dean decided that the nape of the older man's neck was his favorite place to roam with his lips and so he kept doing, until the hand pressed upon his chest slipped downwards until those graceful fingers were resting on the front of his jeans.

Castiel though, was so lost in the toe curling feeling of teeth grazing softly upon his skin that his reply didn't arrive immediately. "This," he whispered through parted lips whilst his tea grew colder. "They never expound on how it really feels. Dean…"

The drawn out sound of his name on the older man's lips seemed to fuel him to deepen the sucking on Castiel's neck until arms wound around him like always and tugged him into a warm embrace. And that's the way they both spent the next hour in each other's company until John showed himself by the backdoor and remarked on the fact that his friend's shirt collar turned upwards seemed rather unbecoming of his character…

Dean joined Charlie the next day to complete their Christmas shopping, those secretive thoughts still kept swirling around inside his mind. Those stolen kisses and the taste of Castiel still consuming his mind until he was literally driven to crave the moment when they'd meet again, when he could resume their innocent lovemaking like the older man was a map he was dying to explore.

“So, he got like…really jealous about Benny?” Charlie studied a white ceramic mug printed with two cute bunnies on the shelf and frowned. “Even though the two of you are a couple and all?”

Dean sighed and pawed through a rack of Aeropostale jerseys, hoping that he could at least be able to purchase a few modern pieces instead of the _rich kid_ clothing he already owned. “Sounds like him being overprotective, I guess and maybe it should freak me out that he’s territorial but I just think that Cas went back to the times I used to hang out with Benny, and he kind of got upset. Back in those days, man I was…distracted easily by a lot of shit so…”

“It’s got to be the memories,” Charlie said softly, resting the mug in the shopping basket after deciding that it would be a lovely gift for Dorothy. “I don’t think he would get territorial with just any other guy because if that’s the case then you’ve got a problem.” When Dean offered her a wounded look, she smiled back warmly. “No, don’t worry much about it because that’s not the vibe I get from him. You know, those kinds of people who get into a relationship and try to control the other person; who they can talk to, who they can’t talk to? That sort of thing. I was with this guy a while ago who couldn’t stand it when I talked to my other guy friends and it turned out to be a real problem because he wanted to get violent. But with Cas, I think it’s just that he used to watch you hang out with Benny and was thinking that this other bad guy was trying to turn you into a bad guy. So, he just doesn’t like him even after all this time.”

The two of them wandered through the gift shop and after a comfortable silence settled between them, Dean’s phone chirped. Pulling it out of his navy-blue sweater, he studied the notification and smiled before opening the message.

_I cannot help but feel terrible about my behavior in your friend’s presence yesterday. I can assure you that it was only a deserved reaction based on your past entanglement with this character whom I never approved of. Can you forgive me?_

Shaking his head as Charlie poked her face in to read the message, Dean showed her without hesitation and the two of them shared a mutual understanding of coincidences indeed playing out.

“He’s such a smol bean,” she smiled and settled on hugging her friend’s arm instead of separating them further. The growing pile inside her basket was becoming heavier so when the handle was taken and Dean slipped left arm through comfortably, she sighed from being equally contented. “Imagine he feels bad about it. That alone should tell you how amazing he is, to admit that he thought it was wrong.”

Dean began to type a response in the process of them becoming lost in the candles section that provided warm scents of all kinds.

_There’s nothing to forgive you for, Cas. I get it, believe me I do and don’t worry about it._

“What are you going to get him for Christmas?” Charlie, decked out in thick warm black tights, ankle high red boots and a red parka matching red earmuffs beamed at him. “It’s just around the corner and I know that you didn’t buy a gift as yet. So, what do you have in mind?”

“Honestly? All that comes to mind is bees, honey and teas. He’s _obsessed_ with those and for the most part of it, I think he would be grateful if I just gave him a box of teabags but, I can’t do that because this Christmas is more special than any other one for us.”

“This time, he’s not just _the_ best friend. He’s the _boyfriend_ too. Which means that the gift’s got to be way more special than normal. Oh! I know!” she examined the gift sets carefully before settling on one and after picking it up, handed it over to Dean, “why don’t you give him that? He seems like the type of guy who does a lot of self-care and you can’t go wrong with beauty care stuff.”

He studied the contents and marveled over the combination, tempted to buy it but still debating on the choice. “Honey scented shampoo, conditioner, body scrub and bath salts…” Dean chuckled and nodded at her, “not bad at all. Good choice, Hermione Granger. But I’m pretty sure he’s got these already because the guy reeks of honey, Old Spice and lavender. So…”

He returned the bundle onto the shelf decorated with clumps of cotton wool and small silver stars and perused the rest of items carefully before smiling at the perfect box of items as if customized exactly for Castiel. There were three candles; vanilla, honey and lavender coupled with an assortment of teas of the same flavors, scented oils and foot salts. Now that was a compilation of things he felt Castiel deserved judging from the absence of candles especially and after the two of them wandered into the stuffed animals section, Dean discovered the next choice that would overwhelm the older man.

“Dude, it’s perfect!” Charlie stole the four feet stuffed yellow bee and squished it into a hug. The lopsided smile strangely reminded Dean of Castiel’s own reaction to moments when he provided a suggestion and thought to himself that maybe the idea wasn’t so convincing. “He’s going to love this! All that’s missing is a trench coat and I’m pretty sure we can find one.”

“You think so?” Dean shouldn’t have asked the question because they indeed stumbled upon the exact shade of coat and after cashing out the items, the two of them pushed the bee into two overly large plastic bags before tucking it away in the trunk of the Impala. “But what if we move in together,” he followed her into another store on High Street, “and the bee gets all the cuddles and hugs that I’m supposed to get? I’m going to chuck it off the damn bed, that’s what.”

Charlie laughed so loud that a few people passing by directed puzzled looks and then resumed their perusing of the racks of clothes on display. “Better yet, to spice things up in your sex life, dress up in a bee costume and I bet he might screw you in it. Or you could do the whole Sherlock Watson roleplay. Now that would be so freaking cool.”

Shaking his head, he suddenly squeaked when his right hand was snatched and Charlie pulled him towards the rear of the store. They rushed past aisles of lacy underwear and sporty bras, Hanes vests and boxers that he would have liked to stop and grab a pack if not for her yanking him away from everything. Then ducking through a heavy midnight blue curtain, she nodded at a very slim and lanky guy manning the desk and as he carefully assessed Dean, another nod was offered. From there, the two of them went down a short hallway and very soon was presented with shelves and bins of an assortment of items that Dean never cast his eyes on before.

It couldn’t be.

After tentatively wandering up to a rack and curiously assessing the contents, he stared wide-eyed at his friend who was chuckling, her face flushed. Evidently she was very certain of her mischievous intentions, determined to unearth a reaction from him that would suffice as wild fascination. And when Charlie picked up a slim box and carefully rested it into Dean’s hands, he studied the deep purple vibrator shaped like a bullet and immediately tossed it back into her awaiting arms.

“Son of a bitch! Where are we exactly?” Dean gaped as he turned to and fro, examining the variety of toys that appeared like artifacts in a museum from Porn Land. “Charlie, is this place what I think it is?”

“Yup,” she bravely walked deeper into the backroom and studied a shelf of bottles of various shades. “I came across it a long time ago when I was dating this girl who was like…into some major foreplay. She got me my first vibrator which like for reals got me through many lonely nights in the orphanage. Had to hide it well from the nuns though because if they found that then I’d be so screwed.”

Dean’s face was so flushed, he could feel the warmth creeping down his neck but laughed regardless. “Oh, I bet one or two of them probably enjoy a good vibrator that’s tucked away somewhere in their nightstands. Man, this is…I thought this kind of place only existed in movies! Look at all this stuff!” he shyly plucked up a box and spent a considerable amount of time perusing the likes of a fleshlight for the first time in his life. “I feel so…uneducated.”

“That’s another thing,” Charlie turned away from the shelf and frowned at him, “how exactly did you survive for so long after your last girlfriend without getting some real kind of action going?”

Her prying was far too innocent and did not wound him in the slightest way because the answer was evident. Over the years, he spent a considerable amount of time directing his passions towards other areas. Books were like friends, studying required a large amount of time and energy and everything else merely filled up the spaces.

“Jerking off does it but this apparently takes that to a whole other level,” Dean lifted the box and showed her the label indicating the directions to use the fleshlight. “Who knew there’s this whole world right in Littleton? The price is damn high though, but considering what it does… I can’t keep something like this in my room, because if Ellen or dad found this…I’d be scarred for life.”

“You’re like a baby lamb now trying to find its footing in a brand new world,” Charlie snorted and collected two bottles from the shelf. “Sex isn’t what it used to be, Dean. Believe me, there’s so much you don’t know about and you _should_ because you’re dating a guy who’s probably very sexual. He’s got needs as you do and if you could spice things up as much as you can then your relationship will keep on being exciting. Come here…”

After he returned the box onto the shelf carefully, and joined her by the two rows of bottles, the labels were finally scrutinized. “I get that there are different kinds of condoms but I never really thought there were different lubes for different things. Man, I’m so embarrassed now.”

Flavored ones. Ice cold. Summer Warm. Tingling Sensations. Vanilla. Honey. Glitter; gold and silver.

“Don’t be,” Charlie punched his arm playfully and the two of them stared at the rows and rows of purposeful items, “we learn something new everyday and it’s good that you’re learning now, right? That way you can know all about this by the time you get there with Cas. This one here…” she plucked a blue bottle from the shelf and showed him, “is mostly for guys because it helps with the discomfort from…pushing things into small places…” when Dean’s face flushed bright red, Charlie giggled, “come on, Dean, you’re behaving like virgin when you’re totally _not_.”

“I kind of am,” he studied the label of the bottle and swallowed from the thought of eventually going that far with Castiel. “Never dated a guy nor had sex with one, in case you forgot. So, this is brand-new to me, man. And maybe I shouldn’t keep thinking that Cas would know everything either because he hasn’t been there with another guy.”

“That’s why you should educate yourself,” Charlie pried the bottle from between his fingers and added it to the two inside her hand. “Why don’t you get another one since it’s buy one, get one free today? How about…one for when you two just get handsy?”

Dean’s throat tightened when he collected another one from the shelf and read _guaranteed to make you come over and over again as this lube can be used if you’re all by yourself or with your partner._ Then when he realized that there was really a small section dedicated to men only, after Charlie retreated to the appropriate shelves encompassing female toys, Dean silently perused the rest of toys.

Knowing fully well that he would come across some weird objects, he first stumbled on a cock ring, something that instantly swept his mind into a territory that was hardly explored but should be ventured into. The box contained a remote which could be controlled by someone else and when he thought about being tortured by Castiel or the other way around, Dean grew entirely heated.

Returning that to the shelf, he moved on to the rimming plug vibrators, prostate massagers, and butt plugs, items that were developed to achieve a goal and obviously the means to an end. Whether he would have loved to think about trying those in their sex life that was non-existent at that moment, Dean wouldn’t stretch his expectations so far because he wasn’t even sure what Castiel favored in bed. He wasn’t even sure if the older man was too old fashioned to entertain the addition of toys, but just the thought of trying new things like the ones on the shelf piqued Dean’s mind in ways he never knew could intrigue him. And after realizing that indeed he contained a kinky streak somewhere buried deep down inside, he felt somewhat…proud of himself and less ashamed.

It was the next day, a cold Sunday afternoon when he decided to pay a surprise visit to Castiel just to learn of the developments with Crowley.

Crossing the moor and coming to the large door once again, Dean reached for the knocker shaped like an angel and he rapped it three times, lightly caressing the black wings and wondering what was the inspiration behind the choice. And just when he was pondering on whether the knocker existed when Castiel’s mother controlled the household and how cliché that would have been, Balthazar opened the door.

Long sleeved black shirt unbuttoned halfway, he presented an abundance of chest and smiled as always. “Lo and behold, you’re just the man I wanted to talk to.”

“Dammit, I should go back home then,” Dean rolled his eyes and stepped into the foyer, then slipping off his coat, he hung it up and turned to the older man who was swelling with glee. “What’s got you looking like a kid in a candy store?”

“Is it true that Benny Lafitte is in town again?” Balthazar’s question was very sincere but received with an abundance of surprise by the younger man. “I’m only asking because I happened to glance over by your house yesterday and saw someone looking just like him on your doorstep.”

“Yeah, it was him,” Dean glanced around and wondered where Castiel was, perhaps in his office and working on a Saturday when most of the world wasn’t, which would mean that he probably was already fatigued and wouldn’t be able to entertain company. “Why you asking though? You two got something going?”

“I…” obviously the question caught Balthazar off guard and he was the one who returned a stare, “well…when you of course hit the nail on the head like that, there’s no choice but for me to admit that we have… _history_ …and I know what you’re going to say,” he followed Dean into the depths of the mansion, very dramatic and animated as usual, “I’m always sticking my thumb into many pies but as it so happens, there was something special between us.”

“Well, that didn’t last, did it? Because you thought he was too young and too poor for you, right?” Dean folded his arms and provided a stolid countenance. “Got to tell you, Balth, if I only knew back then that you treated Benny like a castaway, I would have punched your lights out. Not cool, man.”

“The circumstances were very delicate at the time,” the older man wrung his hands and appeared bashful which was something that never crossed Balthazar’s demeanor. “Now that I have loved and lost, there are certain things that I don’t take for granted anymore. You should understand that just as I do, that taking people for granted might be our greatest downfall. If I only knew at the time that my actions were ridiculous and would force him to leave, then I wouldn’t have let him go. And now that he’s back…did he mention anything about me?”

“Maybe,” Dean sighed and shook his head since his matchmaking days were over but his friend came back for a reason and the blaring truth was standing right in front of him. “Look, don’t screw it up this time, is all I’m saying. If he comes around which I’m sure he will, take it as a blessing as another chance. And go for it. Life’s already short. Got to make the most of what we have right now.”

“Listen to you all wise and mature,” Balthazar seemed genuinely impressed as he stood back and beamed, reeking of expensive cologne as usual, “you’ve changed tremendously, Dean, in a good way that’s admirable and I guess, completely related to being bitten by love.”

“Where’s Cas?” Dean was already fatigued by the older man’s lamentations and never really sought out the thrill on any prior occasion because the two of them really and truly couldn’t ever develop a friendship. Why? Balthazar was very colorful and agitated, never could sit in one attitude for more than two seconds and constantly loved to tease him.

Apart from that, there was that one little episode after he climbed the side of the mansion and peered into the window. After many years of digesting that kind of trauma, Dean was still capable of feeling prickly from the memories and didn’t believe those would ever fade away.

“Go all the way through there,” Balthazar pointed at a long hallway next to the fireplace, “and take the third door on your right,” the older man winked before heading in the opposite direction.

After he followed the directions and walked through the long dimly lit space that contained cold compressed air from the absence of the fire downstairs, the recollection of his last visit settled like a beautiful balm.

The mansion didn’t feel bombarding of ill vibes from Naomi anymore, but warm and cozy and maybe the only daunting section of the place resided where the family photo hung just after reaching the top of the stairs, but even if he refused to consider her piercing gaze and settled on the younger version of Castiel, he was far too satisfied by the outcome.

Dean found the door easily enough and after pushing it open, he was suddenly faced with a room he never imagined would exist inside the Novak’s estate.

Mesmerized obviously, from the stretch of blue water presented in a space that was narrow and as long as the pool, his first impression was how cozy the atmosphere was. Whether from the beige colored rough stone walls and smooth tiled floors or the V shaped ceiling with coffee colored beams, he thought that the likes of the room was far too impressive than any other he possibly came across in magazines or movies.

There was even a minibar as one entered, on the right and covered in the same beige colored tiles coupled with four stools and a cubbyhole cabinet for a variety of alcohol. And as the steam wafted from the surface of the water that rippled from Castiel doing laps smoothly and with expertise, flipping over gracefully like a fish as he encountered each end of the pool, Dean stood there quite lost in the view.

He tried to digest it all, the perfect architecture and warmth generated despite the bitter winter raging outside but most of all, those green eyes latched onto the water gliding over the older man’s half naked body as he continued to swim without realizing that his movements were silently observed.

It wasn’t until a full five minutes after Dean slowly and discretely lowered himself onto a lounge chair woven from honey colored straw that Castiel slowed down his impressive pace. Thereafter, he bobbed on the other side of the pool and for the first time, Dean cast his eyes on the darkened color of the tattoo on the other man’s back, of a pair of black angel wings that fanned upwards and touched his shoulders.

“Think you could do another five laps?” he suddenly revealed his presence in a hoarsened voice, deeply affected by the older man’s abundant display of skin, “I’m just going to sit here and drink it all in.”

Castiel’s look of utter amazement from the intrusion was prolonged even after he spun around and the water’s ripples flattened. “Dean!” he cried in his gravelly voice that curled the younger man’s toes. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Only for like ten minutes.” Green eyes sparkled, knowing well enough that five indeed felt like ten and for obvious reasons. “Jesus, Cas. Where the hell do you get all that energy? It’s like you’re running on energizer batteries.”

“Mostly my diet,” Castiel slowly waded through the water and approached the opposite end of the pool where Dean still stretched off like a cat in his long sleeved red and black plaid shirt, black pants and a dark red scarf bundled upon his lap. “I’ve schooled my body for years to grow accustomed to certain habits and foods. Providing that I’m never ill…the same routine has followed me for many years.”

“And you’re _never_ sick,” Dean provided as the distance between them was eaten up and the older man doggy paddled two feet away from his shoes. “Maybe I should join you on that routine,” he said softly, his eyes roaming the span of Castiel’s upper chest that was beautiful as expected. “Since I don’t want you to exhaust me when we...” Clearing his throat in an honest way to soothe a tickle, he stared back as the silence lengthened.

“You know, you treat the topic of sex as if it’s _quite_ a taboo one,” Castiel’s lopsided smile returned just like the stuffed honey bee tucked under Dean’s bed. “It’s not. You _can_ say the word without turning beet red and fearing that I will think of your statement as undeserving. We are after all _boyfriends_ , aren’t we?”

“God, I hate that term,” Dean sat up and legs splayed out, he leaned forward but couldn’t quite peel his gaze away from where the water stopped just below the older man’s nipples. If he wished, he could perhaps seek out the outline of whatever resided below Castiel’s waist, but then the injustice of everything being concealed in those damn boxers was far too painful to anticipate.

“I know you do. That’s why I purposely used it and if you continue to touch me with your eyes, I’m going to find this moment rather uncomfortable, Dean.”

“I’m…not—” the younger man swallowed as their gaze connected intensely and after accepting defeat, he shrugged. “Can’t help it, can I? I’m just curious to…I’m just…dammit, never mind. Is the water warm as it looks? You look comfy in there despite the freaking cold outside.”

Castiel was smiling lovingly and he nodded slowly, sinking down low enough so that only his head was above the water. “Come in with me then.”

After swallowing hard from just the idea of joining the other man, Dean held his breath because if he even complied, then he would lose all control. “No way, man. I don’t have on swim trunks and—”

“Neither do I actually. I’m just wearing my boxers because initially, the afternoon was supposed to be spent in the gym but after wandering down here, I decided to jump in. Thank goodness I did.”

“Why?” Dean stared back as his heart thumped wildly in his chest and the air grew warmer and uncomfortable around him.

“Because you came along and now, you’re going to get in here with me.”

In _there_? Inside the depth of water that seemed so inviting because someone else, someone _very_ sexy and tempting was occupying the space. Someone who he craved for in ways that were too shameful to admit because his body hadn't been touched in the way he wanted to for a few years that felt like a century. Suddenly, he was becoming so needy and so desperate to _feel_ , to _know_ what it was like to have Castiel, _all_ of him.

“Not going to happen,” Dean shook his head quickly and hugged himself as he glanced around the space and tried to latch his eyes on anything except the mischievous glint in those blue eyes. “How did you spend the day? Charlie and I went shopping and you wouldn’t believe where she took me, man. It was this—”

“Dean, don’t you trust me?” Castiel’s sudden question in a voice that sounded rather much affected by emotions forced the younger man’s words to die away.

The two of them gazed at each other and upon reflex, Dean nodded because the question sounded so awfully familiar, like a ghost brushing its fingers down his spine. “Yeah, of course I do, Cas. It’s just that I’m not mentally prepared to take a swim and I haven’t gone into a pool in…years maybe so…”

“Do you remember how afraid you were many years ago at the lake?” Castiel’s voice was softened and so soothing as he blinked slowly and that was it, the moment relived and completely filling in the blanks between them. “There was so much fear in your eyes after believing that you would be eaten by fishes and left to drown, even after I promised you that I was there and I’d never let anything terrible happen to you.”

“You told me to nut up and trust you,” Dean’s voice softened too as he drowned in literal pools of blue, remembering that beautiful day in summer when the lake presented itself like a monster until he was coaxed to slip in.

“Exactly,” Castiel nodded once, arms stretched out as he floated effortlessly, “most unfortunate that you couldn’t swim at the time but I taught you. And it’s like riding a bike. You’re easily going to grow accustomed again. Besides, the deepest end is all the way on the other side and where I am now is just three feet of which…” he rose up slowly and couldn’t have expected the sudden decision to reveal himself to be so nerve-wrecking for Dean, “you’re more than three feet at an advantage.…” when Castiel realized that he was being gaped at, those green eyes leveled on his orange boxers that hung loose, he stopped.

“Fuck,” Dean’s heart hammered away, head dizzied and a considerable amount of warmth pooled into his abdomen as he caught the very prominent outline of the older man’s _package_. He was abundant in inches and very torturous to admire, so much that Dean realized his dreams never quite fulfilled the kind of realness entertained in the moment as he would have expected.

Castiel plopped back into the water, face growing red and he gingerly chewed on his lips after casting those blue eyes elsewhere. “Forgive me, I never intended to…now you obviously will _not_ join me and I—”

Dean discovered that perhaps his limbs had brains of their own because he felt himself rising up from the chair and his fingers slowly began to unbutton his shirt. All the while, the older man stared in awe, sinking lower into the water as he obviously grew weak in the knees and judging from the parted lips, Castiel was drowning within every second from the slow display of something he craved for after such a long time.

The shirt, after slowly being peeled away, was draped across the arm of the chair and by then, Dean discovered that his hands were trembling from an abundance of nerves. He also realized that the more he considered the openness in Castiel’s blue eyes, the task was becoming more difficult to accomplish so as he peeled off his jeans next, he removed his gaze from the older man’s face to generate some more composure. Only then did he successfully present himself for the first time in his black boxers alone after so many years. And because the moment felt so brand new to him, Dean was suddenly self-conscious of Castiel’s expectations and if he admired what was displayed, that he decided to finally lock their eyes again.

From the moment he discovered that the older man was gaping, obviously losing control of his ability to appear composed, Dean’s admiration of such a reaction caused him to feel somewhat strengthened that he wasn’t unattractive despite the lack of a chiseled body like his brother.

Sam worked out excessively but Dean was rather much gifted enough to remain with a flat midsection, toned upper arms and adequate thighs of which he was never proud of because of his bowlegged stance. But apparently Castiel didn’t care for that unfortunate flaw because he was far more mesmerized after generously roaming Dean’s body. The evident amazement in discovering more inches revealed across the younger man’s chest was far too much for him to digest all at once and because he could never prolong the agony of being speechless between them for a long time, he filled it with humor.

“Those chest selfies don’t do you any justice,” clearing his throat after those words faltered, Castiel swallowed and continued to stare. “Dean, you are absolutely…stunning, I absolutely…hate your clothes so much right now.” When green eyes pinched from a smile, he chuckled, “and now I’m going to confess that those firefighters who were featured in that Australian calendar cannot compete with you.”

“Dude, I don’t have…abs like they do.”

“They look like insects. I’m even more attracted to you than I thought because there you are, a few feet away and I’m already…what’s the term young people use? Turned on?” Castiel walked back two steps as Dean sat by the edge of the pool and slipped his feet into the warm water, testing the temperature.

His toes relaxed from growing a bit numb because of clomping through snow on his way across the moor, and even after realizing that the small distance between them was purposeful on the older man’s behalf, Dean thought it was necessary.

“Cas, I’m shaking and nervous and I don’t know why,” he tried to savor the glorious water calming his pores and stared at Castiel who offered him a softened look. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I don’t trust myself. Not really. If I get in there with you, I’m not going to be able to focus.”

“And do you honestly believe that it’s not the same for me?” the older man’s voice rose a little as he expressed a mutual understanding. “Dean, we are both going to drive each other crazy despite our attempts to gain some kind of control. And judging from how quickly you are catching up…just as I am attracted to you on every level of the word, I don’t believe that we are ever going to feel less nervous or less tortured by each other. Which is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I guess so and yup, you’re always driving me crazy in a good way,” Dean finally slipped into the water and savored the warming feeling enveloping his body. Quickly, he ducked his head under and came up back quite satisfied that the chill outside the mansion as he was crossing the moor was easily chased away from his skin. “Damn, I could stay in here all-day during winter. Do you come in here often?”

“As much as I can manage because if we don’t maintain a fire, the entire house grows miserably cold. From a very young age, Balthazar and I loved to frequent the pool at the Gulf Coast,” Castiel said, referring to a hotel that existed for many years but was torn down because of budget cuts. “The two of us felt so relieved in the water and it wasn’t until I discovered the lake that we went there a few times until I decided to go with you instead. Of course, after some time passed, your life got in the way and we stopped going. We stopped doing a lot of things that we used to do when your girlfriends came along…”

Dean settled into a comfortable position with his knees bent under him and he considered the two feet of space between them. “Just life, Cas. So it goes, you know? I was just really caught up in being a teenager that I forgot about meaningful things like our friendship. And as much as I wish that I could go back and change so much, there were things that I went through that made me into the guy I am now. Things I wouldn’t do again, but was all part of growing up and trying to take risks and failing and then realizing that it was worth it anyway.”

“I know,” Castiel said softly, ducking under and coming back up as the beads of water trailed down the sides of his face. “I really share the same sentiments too because there were things that I experienced as a teenager that were quite traumatic and quite amazing too. I wouldn’t wish to ever relive those moments though but I understand what you mean.”

The two of them bobbed up and down slowly, eyes locked on each other and gazing intently until the surrounding silence threatened to deafen the younger man’s ears.

It wasn’t because of an uncomfortable pause, but more like one filled with so much sexual tension between them that was slowly poisoning him. His head began to ache terribly behind his temples, fingertips growing numb from an absence of touching and seeking out what his heart desired. And although Dean longed to draw nearer and taste Castiel’s lips, he awaited the moment when the older man would take it upon himself to make the first move.

Over and over again, he kept dwelling in a submissive state of mind where the perfect slice of bliss would begin with Castiel’s advances. After all, the age difference might not be thus problematic, but the gap proved to be quite advantageous in turning Dean on by constantly desiring him to take the reins. Like was always the case whilst growing up from a young boy, Castiel usurped his role as the caregiver, the role model, the teacher who never spared discipline to deliver the importance of morals. Therefore, Dean was schooled to embrace him as the one who guided his life, and wasn’t it acceptable to ascertain that he wished the same in their relationship?

“You were about to reveal to me where Charlie took you on your escapade today,” Castiel’s voice grew hoarser as those blue eyes darkened from deeply being affected by his desire too. “Care to enlighten me on how that played out?”

“Well,” Dean lowered his gaze onto the rippling water and splayed fingers delved back and forth at his sides, “she kind of dragged me into this sex toys shop at the back of Dayle and Greggory. And I never knew a place like that existed.” He stopped when the older man’s eyes widened, evidently intrigued. “Did you?”

“Balthazar mentioned it. In fact, he appears to be a frequent customer, judging from his assortment of toys that he brings into the house after purchasing. He finds it very pleasurable to explain the purpose of each. Mind you, I don’t complain about the space to learn new things but it is _not_ my cup of tea to sit down and listen to the many creations there are there to enhance sex.”

“So, you’re not into that sort of thing then…”

Castiel studied Dean’s innocent expression and determined that his answer would be crucial but the truth was necessary regardless. “Truthfully, I’ve never tried anything else but my hands. Are _you_ open to toys?”

“You should have seen my face,” Dean explained in astonishment, recalling the fleshlight and wondering if people could become addicted to such things, “after I started looking at a few, man, I was so intrigued but then I also thought that hey, it’s not something I’m that much interested in, but if you wanted to try maybe one…then…” he shrugged as Castiel slowly nodded with a softened countenance, “I’d go for it. Providing that it’s not like BDSM or you know, tying me down and although there’s a safe word, I still have to _beg_ …” Dean laughed nervously, “you know what I mean?”

He was suffocating on a feeling that didn’t quite present itself as understandable at first until he realized that maybe spicing up their sex life would be something that might be deemed as appealing. And maybe he was relying on Castiel’s approval heavily enough to debate on his own needs as well.

“Indeed, I was never fond of Fifty Shades of Grey anyway, so…” Castiel’s eyes twinkled as he backed away slowly and floated towards the middle of the pool. Dean automatically trailed after him, curiously wondering why distance was created but detesting that being apart from each other felt so painful already. “I don’t want any toys to be used when we make love,” Castiel’s gravelly voice travelled across the water like a warm wave that curled the younger man’s toes.

Fine. He could relate to that theory, of first being able to achieve a sense of relief from the absence of anything else except their bodies raw and alive and real together. Just thinking about that instance was driving Dean crazy, so crazy that he couldn’t even breathe after wondering what such a thing would feel like…coming together with Castiel and savoring every single inch of the older man’s body. And knowing that if they did, then he would become so tormented in the most pleasurable way, that there would be no chance to turn back.

“What about…lube?” Dean’s throat ached from the extra exertion of trying to strain his voice despite his rising desire. “Cause…that’s something we’ll need.”

"What about it?" blue eyes darkened although coupled with a smile that settled on a cool countenance, which most times was the most desirable fixture on Castiel's face.

Dean though was caught in a net he obviously swum into willingly. "Uh…there are different kinds. For instance, there's one that's supposed to be cool and numbing. To kind of shake the discomfort away when we…"

"When we _what_ , Dean?" a slow blink and then a lopsided smile that suggested purposeful teasing. "Go on…loosen your tongue as you become comfortable with a new language…"

"I know how to talk about sex," Dean said confidently whilst the water lapped around his shoulders. "I just don't want to overdo it with you."

"Suppose I _want_ you to talk about it. Hmm?" Castiel tried in a softened tone. "Suppose I would like you to unravel me with your words? Go bold, Dean. This is your chance to continuously wow me and although you've been doing quite a fantastic job of it thus far, I'd like you to peel back your layers and show me everything there is to you that I haven't seen before. You told me that there is a side to you I was never privy to, correct?" When Dean nodded, he smiled, "well then…"

"Maybe I can't really use words as best as I want to…but I can show you…"

“Then show me," Castiel chuckled softly before his smile disappeared with the rest of him below the water.

Humor quickly fading away after a few seconds slid by and there was no reappearance of the other man, Dean tried to maintain his footing as the depth increased. He was worried, but slightly, completely aware that the other man was an excellent swimmer but it was the motive behind the disappearing act that fueled him to grow anxious.

It was the sudden need to escape from view and wander below the warm water that caused Dean to turn around slowly as his heart beat wildly in his chest. And after determining that Castiel was toying with his mind, evidently trying to heighten his adrenaline levels from creating a sense of panic, Dean tried to take slow breaths because he wished not to slip into the deeper part of the pool.

But after the seconds felt like five minutes and his mind grew heavy from worry, after the silence started ringing even louder and he panicked, he eventually inched away from the six feet mark and bordered on a level in the water that covered his nose completely.

By then, Dean was consumed with fear, remembering the one tragic moment in the lake many years ago when his toes slipped on smooth rocks and the currents tugged him into the deep middle. From there, he instantly sunk to the bottom of the lake until Castiel barely managed to capture him around the waist. And that was exactly what occurred after the water swallowed him whole in the pool’s depths.

He instantly felt sturdy arms wrap around his waist from behind, hands that were always willing to protect him, forming a ring around his body until his head rose once again and he could breathe. It was reminiscent of when he first brushed their lips together, feeling the sparks between them and coming alive again as if being reborn and maybe the premise of their relationship was always supposed to lead to that moment. When he would suddenly realize that they were meant to be more than friends, and lovers and everything else because he trusted Castiel so much.

When the older man drifted them backwards until Dean’s foot could find the tiled floor again, he didn’t release him but purposely held on as if the world around them was quite a cruel place and the only safety resided in his arms. He drew them so close that Dean instantly discovered they fitted so perfectly together, that most of what he could feel below the other man’s waist was a generous reminder of how much Castiel was attracted to him. Hot and hard, and very stimulating enough to cause Dean’s eyes to flutter close as his parted lips inhaled steam. Then the soft kisses that began and never ended forced him to wish that his whole life could entertain those warm lips searching his left shoulder until a soft moan escaped.

It was almost as if Dean was slowly unwinding, opening up just enough to allow their souls to taste each other over and over again. And Castiel’s mouth kept on exploring the back of neck, tasting what he most desired and latching onto a weak spot just between Dean’s shoulder blades that melted him like butter. He never imagined in his wildest dream that such spots existed until the older man claimed them and kept dominating the feeling that curled Dean’s toes constantly.

He also never believed that another man could overwhelm his so much that his body ached to be touched in every single place, his pores screamed out for attention and as Castiel’s lips lingered at the nape of his neck, Dean couldn’t survive the torture anymore. It was blissful but nerve-wrecking not being able to drown in those blue eyes, so he circled around in the other man’s arms and collected Castiel inside his own embrace.

Resting their foreheads together and finally gazing into skies of blue that were endless and comforting and reassuring and everything else that encompassed bliss; in that moment, he understood why people claimed that love was an illusion. Because he honestly felt like he was captured inside the best dream of his life. And after the heat between them built up as their lips danced closer, Castiel was the one who kissed him first because he was by then suffocating.

This time, there was a kind of desperation to find each other’s tongues and claim victory, to taste everything there was and so much more.

Dean captured Castiel’s bottom lip and pulled teasingly when their eyes met, his breathing quickened and chest heaving as they continued to taunt each other. But the older man was in no way a match for torture as promised before, because every single time Dean tried to kiss him afterwards, he pulled back until they were both breathless and fueled by enough passion. And after becoming so fatigued by the constant refusal, the younger man took it upon himself to switch up the game.

After capturing Castiel’s shoulders into his grasp and deciding that he could not survive on such torment, Dean walked him backwards until the older man was sandwiched between him and the tiled wall of the pool.

By then, Castiel was gazing at him with so much passion in those blue eyes, the shade darkened immensely and when their bodies pressed together, he jerked his hips forward and wrapped his thighs around Dean’s waist. From then, of course something welled up inside the younger man that consumed him with the kind of demanding needs he longed for. And that was when Dean pressed Castiel into the wall, and sandwiched him there as they stared wide eyed at each other.

It was surreal.

It was like coming together and tasting passion for the first time and knowing that it would slowly build up like a wave and roll over them until they couldn’t breathe.

There were no words to describe how Dean grew so dominated from his feelings that he just wanted more, so much more. He wanted to know more, to know what it was like to feel every single inch of their bodies pressed together and to satisfy his fantasies of bringing them together completely.

It was all of this that fueled him to boldly reached between them and tug the front of his boxer lower because he wanted to do it. Freeing himself, he felt for the waist of the older man’s shorts and mirrored the same move, and after collecting Castiel’s thighs into his grasp, Dean pressed him into the wall again. This time though, when the raw feel of their cocks meeting overwhelmed their minds, Castiel gasped from the powerful move that displayed Dean’s lack of being submissive. He couldn’t breathe, judging from his parted lips, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s neck and his fingers raking upwards into wet blonde hair.

Dean though, wasn’t spared from the inability to take full breaths but eventually after resting their foreheads together and maintaining eye contact, he started moaning from the crescendo building up between them. It was like surfing on a wave and realizing that you would reach the peak at some point but how pleasurable it would become, he could not ascertain that feeling because he never experienced any of it before.

Castiel was evidently far ahead of him though, lost in green eyes that drowned him as much as he covered Dean completely in bliss and lost his mind in the process. They kept moving together over and over again, slow at first and sensually grinding into each other. The absence of space between them was beautiful enough to provide so much clarity that _this_ was what they were always missing. This was the missing piece, the burden that weighed down over the years when they never touched each other or they never understood that gender couldn’t prevent them from experiencing so much beautiful pleasure. And just when the younger man decided that he would let go of Castiel’s thighs and graze his thumb across parted lips, a hoarse cry escaped instead as blue eyes widened.

“Dean!” the older man choked when he came between them, straining from the release in quick succession as his body jerked over and over again.

The moment was so beautiful, so real and something Dean never witnessed before that he could only stare and suffocate from the actuality of driving Castiel to the edge.

It was enough to pull him closely behind as he buried his face into the older man’s neck and followed with the kind of long-awaited orgasm that covered his entire body in warmth, curled his toes and pulled apart his mind. And it was unlike anything he ever experienced in his life, grazing his teeth into the soft skin on Castiel’s shoulder and sucking after ever wave of release. They both held each other tightly through it all, grinding their hips together and coming again just when they thought that it was all over, when they honestly believed that there was no more, there _was_ so much more.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, after resting their foreheads together and gazing at each other as if a wall was demolished between them and something extraordinary was revealed finally.

“Yes,” Castiel’s voice was barely audible as he rubbed their noses together and pressed a soft kiss onto parted lips. In those few seconds that lingered, where the two of them were drowning in what their bodies were progressing through, there was nothing better than understanding that it was all real.

“Who needs the damn toys?” the younger man still couldn’t catch his breath. “Fuck toys. You have everything I need.”

Immediately, Castiel chuckled hoarsely and his fingers curled behind Dean’s ears as he admired green eyes that still remained wide like opened windows to a beautiful soul. “There is a reason why I told you that I don’t want those. I think we can…manage just fine without them.”

“Right? That was…amazing,” Dean didn’t want to untangle them because the feeling was most feared and promised the kind of emptiness that he could not wish for. “It’s like I became someone else.”

“I noticed,” Castiel brushed their lips together softly and then smiled. “Dean Winchester possesses some qualities that I was never privy to.” He chuckled when the younger man smiled into their soft kisses, the way they simply could not entertain an inch of distance between their bodies. “It appears that you’re hiding quite a dominant side that couples nicely with your passionate mind. And I am falling in love so much more every single day with you, Dean. You’re proving to me that patience was always necessary to achieve the fullest meaning of happiness in my life—”

“Babe, don’t make me cry,” Dean smiled although his face contorted a little from the abundance of words that always wooed him. “Go back to talking about sex. I don’t want to cry after what just happened between us because it was so…it was a big deal for me…for _us_. I just wanted to go one step further and prove to you that I’m really into this as much as you are. So, if in any small way you weren’t sure, I think you’re convinced now that we’re not just best friends anymore. We’re…fuck buddies too.” Dean’s smiled widened because he was crossing barriers that were maintained before and now collapsed with so much ease.

“Oh, really?” Castiel laughed hoarsely and seemed impressed, “you just flew over the terms boyfriends, soul mates, even lovers, and delved right into fuck buddies. Quite astonishing how your mind works all of a sudden. Leading us constantly into intimacy when you actually used to favor our long conversations more than anything else in the world, as I can recall.”

“I still like talking to you,” Dean said laughing, as the older man untangled his legs and still embraced him, “but I also like making out with you so we could _try_ to do both but I really think that you’ll like one over the other more. Because you’re biased.”

“And why am I biased? Hmm?”

“Because you love when our bodies do the talking. Our mouths, tongues, fingers, no clothes on."

“Listen to you, talking to me dirty.” Castiel hummed as their lips met softly and when Dean chuckled, he pulled back to study green sparkling eyes. “Why are you laughing at me? Don’t you laugh at me. I might suck at dirty talk but I can equally compensate in other areas.”

Admiring the adorable expression on the older man’s face, Dean snorted. “Don’t doubt that, Cas. But we have a problem. I think…” his gaze swept the pool around them, “that our boxers swum away from us and now we’ll have to search for them.”

“Think of the horror Balthazar would experience if he came for his morning swim tomorrow and dives face first into one,” Castiel chuckled and they commenced studying the surface of the water. “Oh look, there’s yours just on the opposite end. But where’s mine? Maybe we should duck under and check.”

Dean fell for the suggestion so smoothly without realizing what was intended and after complying, because there was just three feet between them, he turned around under the water and instantly determined that Castiel remained standing. After he studied the older man’s package, he of course came to the conclusion that his dreams would forever be consumed with the glorious image. But then when the flash of orange caught his eyes, still round around the older man’s ankles, he pushed himself upwards and considered a laughing Castiel.

“Not cool!” Dean scolded, pointing his finger accusingly as he drifted backwards and reached for his own pair. “Badly done, Cas! Although I can’t complain about the view. I really can’t complain at all considering that your entire body is sexy and delectable.”

The older man stared back in awe as he tugged up his boxers and the water lapped against the side of the pool. “First of all, thank you. And how dare you,” Castiel said humorously, “use my own famous line on me? Hmm? How would you like it if I suddenly took a fancy to _dammit_ or _son of a bitch_?”

“ _How dare you_ ,” Dean mocked, reaching down to slip on his boxers, but not before enjoying the warmth and beautiful sensation of being completely naked in the presence of someone else, especially when there was no awkwardness but a sincere normalcy attached to the moment.

Castiel sighed, “very mature. Care to join me for dinner? I believe we’re having baked beans, chicken salad and wine, if I can recall what Garth said correctly. He’s our head cook. A very nice man. You’d like him, actually. And…Dean, wait, for goodness sakes!” hustling after the younger man, he reached for the small ladder and climbed up. “Where are you going? Are you declining my date proposal?”

When Dean helped himself to Castiel’s towel and proceeded to pat away the wetness from his arms, those green eyes narrowed at the orange boxers because he couldn’t quite shake the guilty intentions prior of forcing him to literally behold what was available.

Maybe Castiel found the situation rather amusing, but he was very much preoccupied with the length, shape and tone of such an amazing part of the older man’s anatomy that could not be wiped from his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he suffered in vain after reaching for his clothes and refusing to partake in any further conversation.

Castiel, on the other hand was punished severely in return when Dean decided to forgo his boxers because it would be rather uncomfortable to pull his pants over the wet garment. When he did present himself boldly, offering a smug expression, payback was delivered quite abundantly as the older man’s gaze latched between Dean’s legs and his lips parted instantly. And it was almost as if Castiel couldn’t quite believe what he was witnessing, very much convincing to Dean that he probably never cast his eyes on another naked man before which settled them on the same level.

“I’ll join you for dinner. But on one condition,” Dean reached for his shirt and tugged that on, never breaking eye contact.

Castiel swallowed with his arms falling to his sides. “Anything you wish…”

“Glad to hear you say that,” Dean didn’t spare a breath afterwards, “I want you to take that off,” he gestured at the other man’s undergarment as blue eyes widened, “and let me touch you. Just…” he held up a hand as Castiel squeaked, “touching, okay?”

The hesitation was glorious though, proving that enough anxiousness was swelling between them and when the offer was accepted, Dean awaited the results but was clearly underestimating how the tables could turn.

“Why don’t you do it?” Castiel’s gravelly voice deepened as he blinked slowly, never moving an inch. “You’re quite capable as you’ve proven earlier, so come and do me the honor of…” Dean’s footsteps were definite as he closed the distance between them and the older man’s words died away.

Of course, he was capable, that much was proven when he looped his thumbs into the waistband of Castiel’s boxers and kept those green eyes level on blue ones. The feeling was so adrenaline fueled, of taking control again because he was asked to, and because the trust between them was so honest and pure, Dean pressed their lips together softly, lingering in the kiss a few seconds before continuing.

From there, he slowly tugged on the waistband and after instantly lowering his gaze to assess the contents, he lightly caressed the full length of the older man’s shaft.

He couldn’t believe how everything changed between them in such a short time, briefly recalling when he used to wonder what Castiel looked like without his clothes and now…there he was actually touching and allowing his fingertips to traverse every inch. Every time he touched him though, the older man’s chest heaved, breathing through his parted lips as he gazed longingly at Dean and tried to bring them closer together.

But Dean wouldn’t allow it as he collected Castiel’s right shoulder into his grasp and kept them apart, allowing his eyes to conduct all the searching he needed to ascertain where the other man liked to be touched. And when he discovered that using his thumb to barely drag across the tip of Castiel’s cock caused him to tremble and unearth a sinful moan unlike anything he ever heard, Dean stored that away for the future. He reveled in that moment, completing the caress over and over again, prolonging the feel of his thumb on the other man’s tip until he was hard and leaking from anticipation.

“Dinner,” he danced his lips closer and teased a soft kiss, still maintaining his hold on what he considered by then to be an absolutely mesmerizing and sensitive part of Castiel, “although I’d like to try you instead, I can’t turn down baked beans so…”

“Deannn, please don’t do this to me…”

“Do what?” staring into blue eyes that were widened, the younger man’s own orbs sparkled from some other ulterior motive. “Huh?”

“You cannot leave me like this. It’s rather uncomfortable when I—” Castiel gasped and his knees buckled when Dean firmly yanked his cock through fingers that were already developing its own kind of expertise. And if it wasn’t for the instant wrapping of his arm around the younger man’s waist, then the two of them would have tumbled to the tiled floors.

“I’d never leave you like this, Cas,” Dean’s voice was so hoarse and suggestive of riding on a dangerous kind of high, even as he teased with his thumb until the other man buried his face into the crook of his shoulder. “No,” pulling away his neck just enough to bring those blue eyes into focus again, he rested their foreheads together, “I want you to look at me. I want to see you.” And slowly, he began to jerk Castiel off, tugging their bodies close enough to maintain his grip. “I want you to know that I’m all in, okay?”

The older man squeezed his eyes shut as he neared the edge. “Okay…” Castiel inhaled deeply from holding onto the moment just before he reached the edge.

“I want you, Cas. Fuck, I… _want_ you more than this. I want you on a bed or anywhere else and I want to…” Dean rubbed their noses together as his lips trembled from the feel of Castiel’s cum coating his fingers, “…I want all of you,” he whispered, barely hanging onto his sanity as their chests heaved uncontrollably. “I want to…feel what it’s like to be inside of you. Moving inside of you. I want that so bad that…Jesus—"

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was barely audible, of course stunned by the honesty and feeling like his chest would explode. “I want that too," and before he could even contain himself, Castiel crushed their lips together as his releases were more than bearable. Over and over again, he came, straining from emptying himself inside of Dean’s hand and between them until he couldn’t contain his hoarse cries. And when he realized that the younger man was equally spending himself between them as well, coming completely until he couldn’t accomplish even a sob but squeezed out tears from those beautiful green eyes, Castiel was the one who wrapped them into a tight embrace.

They remained like that until Dean could not contain his tears anymore but rubbed them into the older man’s neck and even then he wasn’t sure whether he could lock their eyes. After revealing so much in his weakest moment? After basically revealing what he truly desired and knowing that he had overstepped into a territory that would change their perspective of each other from then onwards? He really and truly wanted to be honest, to continue being honest but he was also fearful of having his thoughts considered as too demanding or too _weird._

“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering, once then again, until he felt cracked and broken. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said those…things. I shouldn’t have—"

“Sweetheart,” Castiel’s voice was soothing though, when he collected Dean’s face between his palms and brought their eyes to meet. Blue ones could only reveal immense worry from the wounded countenance. “It’s okay. You mustn’t feel like expressing yourself is something terrible. It’s me, Dean. And I love you. And I also want the things you want too. I’ve wanted those things for a long time. It’s okay.”

“I love you,” the younger man croaked, finally braving an open gaze that was suggestive of so much more. “I love you with every breath I take.”

Castiel brushed their lips together and waited.

When Dean finally kissed him, it was the kind of kiss that opened their hearts up wide enough to feel like they weren’t separate people. They were already one and they knew what each other tasted like, when to tilt their heads, which pace to fall into and when to come up for air. And after they both realized that the changes between them were closing major gaps, there wasn’t a chance of living a future without each other.

Lovemaking?

A quick progression of desperate hands, thirsty lips, skin on fire and writhing hips.

The reaching of arms, rushing of blood, pores excited and intoxicating charms.

By the time the two of them slipped into their clothes and wandered into the living room, the view presented outside was becoming quite steamy despite the garden blanketed in snow. Dean barely managed to drink in the older man’s comfortable looking black sweater coupled with a pair of khaki pants before jerking his chin to the scene unfolding beyond the large glass windows.

“I mean…” he couldn’t conceal his astonishment as Balthazar wrapped his arms around no other than Benny and pulled him in closer to deepen the most passionate kiss. “Damn…would you look at that.”

Castiel stared wide-eyed and couldn’t believe what was happening in front of him and after linking their arms quite unconsciously, he leant into Dean’s left shoulder. “Is that part of your matchmaking game?”

“Pretty much ashamed to say that it isn’t. This just…happened on its own apparently. Did you know?” green eyes latched onto the older man’s flushed face. “Because I didn’t. I had no idea that Benny was having some kind of an affair. And we were friends for so long, man. Two damn years and I couldn’t even tell that he was practically in love with the dude next door. Like…” Dean shrugged and scoffed even after still feeling warm from their lovemaking.

“I knew though,” Castiel said softly, still staring at the pair outside as the snow lightly fell onto their coats.

“You did?” the younger man studied blue eyes and searched for answers but only a sigh was offered. When he could never believe that falling in love was an endless process, there he was, drowning deeper and deeper. “Cas, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my story to tell, I’m afraid and believe me, I wanted to but my brother swore me into secrecy after the entanglement was discovered and because I was so against it to begin with, I never spoke a word of it to anyone. The disadvantage was obvious,” Castiel threw a glance at Dean who was staring at him, rendered speechless by many things. One of which was love. The other was trying to focus on the conversation happening just enough to realize that there were disagreements. “The age gap was tremendous and—”

“Twenty-five years, Cas. Just five years short from us.”

“I know. And I am more accepting of that _now_. But at the time I…hated that I was falling in love with you,” Castiel said softly as their eyes met, “I understand that hate is such a strong word but the gap was tremendous for me too and I loathed what my brother could have when I couldn’t even…” he squeezed Dean’s arm and a strained expression crossed his face, “I couldn’t even expect the same kind of attraction rendered from you therefore…I…advised against the match and Balthazar didn’t listen to me at first. But then he did because his excuse was that he wasn’t good enough for your friend. Of course, he couldn’t predict that his declination would push Benny out of Littleton. No one could, not even you.”

Dean shook his head and bit his lips gingerly as he studied the older man outside caressing his friend’s face tenderly like two lovers finally finding each other again. “I get it. Wish I was there for him in the way he wanted me to. Can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him after being pushed away like that. I mean, I’m glad that I have supportive family but Benny was raised rough. He could do all the drugs and the booze easily but to commit to another guy? I think his dad would have beat the shit out of him if he only found out. His folks are dead now though. Guess he still has his sister in the mountains. Thing is,” Dean turned to Castiel and flattened his palms upon the older man’s cheeks, “family makes the world of difference and it doesn’t end in blood.”

“I understand what you mean. The support system is essential especially when we’re coming to terms with certain things.”

Resting their foreheads together, Dean brushed their lips and melted as his eyes fluttered close. “Don’t think I told you this for a couple of days but I can’t live without you, Cas. Might not say it a lot but I keep trying to prove it to you.”

Castiel kissed Dean, his fingers curling into dark blonde hair that was still damp and then he just swayed them on the spot slowly. “I like when you prove it to me. I want you to keep that up. And since I haven’t returned the same words to you in a while, I want you to know that I can’t live without you too, darling. I love everything about you. Even your freckles.”

“I hate those,” Dean embraced the older man tightly and buried his face into Castiel’s neck. “But it’s good to know someone loves them because now I know they exist for a reason. Just like I love what exists in your pants by the way. I love every inch of it immensely.”

“We’re going there again? Do you know how difficult it was for me to relax again after your prodding fingers? Hmm?”

“Bite me then,” Dean teased whilst chuckling.

“Gladly,” Castiel clamped his teeth down onto the younger man’s shoulder and chewed softly.

The spot was a very sensitive one and immediately, Dean’s toes curled in his boots. “Damn. You’re like a feisty kitten.”

The two of them laughed but weren’t even aware that they were suddenly being scrutinized by the pair outside the window and as Benny whispered something into the older man’s ear, Balthazar smiled fondly at his brother.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter from a very painful personal experience and could not really edit it to perfection so if there are mistakes, please forgive me. Warning that you may cry so be prepared. But it had to happen; to become one must break.

**Excerpt:**

_"I'm the guy," Dean's face contorted as he gave in to tears when their eyes met, "who loves you more than he loves himself because when I love you…when I feel myself loving you, every single part of me, I feel damn good about myself. And if you keep doubting that, if you keep thinking that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life with you then I don't know what the rest of my life will look like without you in it."_

* * *

“So, you’re telling me that some poor innocent girl one town over has got you smitten.”

Dean shoveled away some more snow from the gate and tossed it into the growing heap by the bench where Claire sat huddled in her thick red winter jacket. And the scene was so reminiscent of the many times he was presented with Charlie’s company that the teenager indeed provided adequate conversation.

Thus far, his usual routine began every morning at precisely eight with the clearing away of nature’s white, frozen tears. He cleaned the pathway leading up to the house, brushed the patio and then moved onto the back porch where the two bottom steps were always white and fluffy. And the task wasn’t as easy as he seemed to approach it, because the bitter cold that hung in the air coupled with the frost bite from the kiss of ice through his gloves was more than enough to leave Dean rigid afterwards.

But something was troubling him deeply, knowing that after what he considered the best moment of his life two days ago inside the pool and outside of it, ever since then the absence of the older man was beginning to drive him crazy. Doubts arose, of course, doubts centering on the actuality of Castiel regretting all of it, coming over and staying for dinner but leaving half an hour after because he was too tired. No calls, no time to spare messaging, not even a hint that he treasured what happened between them and chose to highlight such a thing to Dean.

“What’s so weird about that? It’s not like I’m a cactus,” scowling, Claire cast her blue eyes off into the distance and for a few seconds, he honestly admired the same gesture that was oftentimes entertained by her father. “Besides, you’re the one who’s good at matchmaking people, right?”

“You want me to give you tips on how to win her back.”

“Exactly,” folding her arms, she sighed as their eyes met, and even though her complexion paled out severely, those rosy cheeks were still dusted with color. “Look, I really love her, okay? But I couldn’t stay over there because I had to make a choice and I ended up ditching her to come back to dad. You got to understand that at least. Priorities. You don’t always get what you want.”

“Okay, so this girl…Kaia,” Dean really decided that he perhaps had shoveled enough and paused, because her dilemma was of importance and so far, Claire seemed to be struggling with her emotions. “What’s she like. Tell me about her so I can know at least what advice to give you.”

After sighing, Castiel’s daughter who was far from becoming an accountant or a lawyer as those occupations flourished through the successful men in her family, proceeded to elaborate on the situation a little more. She highlighted that one night after joining in on a bonfire, she was introduced to Kaia and it was like love at first sight. If such things did exist, to Dean, he really couldn’t believe that Claire, as young as she was, could determine such a connection immediately. After all, the young woman was always flitting about and chasing after the next thrill, never quite locking into attachments that lasted. And maybe she was a lot like her mother in that respect, but Dean suspected that buried deep down inside, she was far too similar to her father.

Kaia, according to Claire, was brought up in an unstable home after her father walked out when she was five and her mother attempted to raise three daughters whilst struggling with alcohol. Thereafter realizing that their situations were far too worse and would never become better, Kaia left a small town in Baltimore and travelled across the country to a town next to Littleton called Sweet Acorn. From there, she picked up a full-time job as a typist, earning far less than the minimum wage and would always lament about her independence because she never depended on anyone for anything after leaving home.

Claire was definitely in love with this young woman one year her senior and Dean could immediately determine such a truth in the manner in which she spoke about her. The way her blue eyes warmed and her hands became animated enough to list small things that only an observant person, obviously fueled by attraction would notice about someone else. Like Kaia’s little odd habits of tucking her curly hair behind an ear when uncertainty presented itself, or her fear of heights, her passion for women’s rights. The way she would always tie her right shoe laces before moving on to the left, or chewing on her thumb when nervousness overwhelmed her.

Dean understood what it was like to hang onto those small gestures, because he became too familiar with Castiel’s habits as well. So familiar, that he could predict the older man’s response and reaction in regards to anyone else, except when he was a contributing party. When he was tied into the equation, many things slipped into the situation and intoxicated his mind enough to never really determine what could be the outcome. And because Dean would forever wonder what was Castiel’s next move, he embraced the adrenaline rush that kicked in every single time.

“You been talking to her?” he asked after sitting beside Claire on the bench, both of them facing the Novak mansion.

“I text like all the time.”

Dean sighed because he could never relate to hanging onto a messenger application for communicating with someone instead of just meeting them face to face or making that significant call. “That’s not going to work, man. So much could be lost away in between texting. Seeing words on a screen don’t really do any good compared to when you’re talking to someone, hearing their voice and listening to their reactions.”

“She works all day. She can’t take calls.”

“Then…wait till she’s off from work and call her,” Dean suggested, legs parted, arms resting on his thighs and fingers splayed out as he studied the tips of his black rubber lined gloves. “I think calling someone gives the impression that you want to set aside time to have a conversation with them. Instead of just texting and in between doing everything else, you’re letting the person know that you’re taking just a few seconds to give them some attention.”

Claire studied his face and reached up to tuck a few strands of blonde hair behind an ear. “So, you’re telling me that you really don’t text my dad at all.”

He couldn’t lie, not when the beginning of their relationship was so traumatic on both ends and the existence of a mobile phone in each of their hands proved to be an important medium. “I do. But only when I don’t see him and he’s busy working. Like today, he’s holed up over there probably buried inside paperwork and we barely managed two texts back and forth. He told me good morning as usual and I threw in a bunch of emojis and the famous three words. Oh, stop it.” Glancing at her, he rolled his eyes and didn’t quite enjoy the smirk.

“You two are so soft for each other.”

Were they? Surely _he_ was extremely soft in a manner of speaking, but he shouldn’t have to pay to determine what Castiel’s views were on their intimate moment in the pool. He shouldn’t be feeling so doubtful about his advances and although inexperienced, wondering whether he was extremely bad at love making. He possibly was.

“Yeah, and so what?” Dean’s forehead creased from trying to study Claire’s countenance that merely registered a satisfied expression. “Huh? You know me. I know you. Don’t you think I, at least, deserve something soft?”

“When you’re standing on the outside looking at you two, it’s like watching the mushiest romance movie ever.” Claire nudged his left shoulder playfully and made a face. “Lighten up, okay? I’m just teasing you. I know you two are the poster couple for any LGBT newsletter but it’s not easy for the rest of us. I mean, Kaia is just…she has these walls up and I can’t seem to get through them.”

When someone was hurt just enough to break them, most times in relation to their heart, then walls were constructed. Tall walls made of stone and cemented to weather any storm and it was expected for someone who must have had a tragic childhood, wandering around on her own and trying to settle.

“You need to prove to her that you’re not going to poke your head in temporarily but you’re really looking at this as something long term,” Dean said softly, considering the pathway he shoveled earlier and wondering how lucky it was for his brother to never have to complete those duties in New York. “That’s why you’ve got to start making those calls. Ask about her day. Listen to her rant. Then encourage her to keep going so that she knows there’s someone who finally cares. And if you keep doing that every day at least, then eventually she’ll realize that you’re the real deal. It ain’t easy loving a rolling stone, Claire.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” her blue eyes widened because after knowing Dean for such a long time, she was quite aware of his empty love life and wondered many times if he was really an expert in keeping his personal affairs secret or there just wasn’t anything to conceal.

“Nah,” he reassured her with a shake of the head, “got a friend who got bitten by love, got his heart broken, rolled around a couple places and then came right back. All I’m saying is that love takes time. The ones that happen too quick burn out fast most times. Look at me and Cas. We’ve been stuck to each other for so long, and then suddenly I woke up and realized that I can’t live without him.”

Claire grew silent for a long time after considering what she really desired the most in her life. She became pensive and cast a far-away gaze at the White Mountain; its peaks white and bright under the sun. And to Dean, he considered her demeanor and wished that at least something would happen as easy as she wished it to, that she wouldn’t have to fight with her beliefs in order to settle down. He wished that he could indeed assist in so many other ways but prying into a teenager’s life and trying to persuade them to take the right path was something that never really happened in any lifetime. And even if it did happen, most times what was preferred was for someone to learn whilst making their own decisions, providing that those decisions were admirable enough and not driven by rash thoughts.

“Can I ask you something, Dean?” Claire finally drifted away from the thoughts inside her head and returned to the conversation. “It’s kind of personal but I just want to know.”

“Sure,” he reached out and softly caressed her pink streak that always suggested that she was rebellious enough to deviate from the norm of society. “Anything you want to know, I’m here for you, man. You know that.”

“Dad,” she said softly, shrugging and offering a bashful look that was very unusual, “do you think that he really loved my mom? I mean, do you think that he _really_ loved her instead of just finding someone he thought he needed to take care of? I get the vibe that he wasn’t really with her because of a romance.”

Dean sighed and nodded slowly after realizing why the questions could be troubling her. Regret. She was trying to decide whether her appearance in Castiel’s life was something that he never planned to happen and never really wished for. Or this was all related to whether her belief in pursuing Kaia would prove to be beneficial in the long run. Her belief in love was flimsy at that point, and Dean couldn’t understand why because wasn’t his relationship with Castiel a firm foundation as proof that good things could happen when influenced by love?

“We never really talk about her much but I know for sure that love comes in many forms. And when they met, I’m sure they fell in love, but I don’t know how they met or what it was like. However,” he softened his gaze and reached for her right hand, taking it tenderly between his own, just like many occasions before when she was a small child and he would try to prove to her that someone cared. “The main fact that he stuck around, even after Amelia was struggling with drugs; that’s love. People stick around when they care. They…want to help you become better and even if it kills them in the process, they keep trying. Your dad…he didn’t give up on her. She gave up on him.”

“Is it worth it though?” the question was asked, and it was the same one that he expected. “Do you think that killing yourself and using up all that energy to go after someone is worth it?”

Dean nodded and squeezed her hand in an affectionate gesture. “If you asked me that same question like two months ago, I would probably be telling you that it’s stupid and love’s just some fancy word that makes no sense. But I’ve seen what it’s like for other people besides me. Look at Jody and Donna for instance. You’ve seen how they lasted for so many years and they just keep going. And they wouldn’t stay together if they don’t love each other.”

“But to you, is it worth it?” Claire was gazing at him as if his answer would mean the world to her and she would hang onto his belief so firmly because the trust between them was very strong.

“I know it _is_ ,” Dean said softly, their eyes locking and his heart swelled from the fond memories of finally realizing he meant so much more to Castiel. “After being with a couple girls when I was a teenager, and failing every single time, I gave up. But I guess I shouldn’t have because just when I accepted defeat, your dad was falling in love with me and I was too blind to see it. Think of it this way, Claire. You can’t stop trying. If you stop trying like I did, then you’re going to waste time. If you don’t try with Kaia, then you’re going to look back when she’s probably moved on with someone else and regret that you couldn’t do it. It’s the effort that counts, man.”

He wrapped her in his arms after relating such a speech, pulling the soft, but tough soul of a teenage girl into an embrace that brought tears to her eyes. And maybe the tears originated from many things like rejection, a broken heart, fear and pain. But he needed to prove to her that she was still loved and her value was substantial enough to warrant efforts in pursing what she most desired.

Dean hoped that what he shared with Castiel could be seen in her eyes as evidence that no one should give up on anyone. And maybe he was trying to shelter a girl that was far too independent to be soothed by love, but he wanted to try.

“Thanks so much for never giving up on me, Dean,” Claire said afterwards, when the arms around her felt like home and it was a place that she never knew existed. “Now I need to prove to Kaia that I wouldn’t give up on her.”

“That’s my warrior,” he pressed a soft kiss onto her forehead and realized that in his arms, she was so warm and alive and possibly exactly what he would wish for in a child of his own.

Maybe she was already his daughter in so many ways that were too beautiful to understand in that moment. Claire was already playing a major role in the compilation of his own family, because Castiel was his family and after she left him sitting in solace to drown in his own thoughts, Dean realized that his life was changing so drastically and yet there was the absolute absence of fear.

There was nothing that could unsettle him anymore like the days when he used to envy his brother’s happiness with Jess and his children and wish for the same thing. Now, he was entangled in love and experiencing quite a modern definition of what building a future with another man could present. And after picking up the shovel, he dragged it towards the back gate before jabbing away at the ice gathered between the wood. The pieces fell away so easily from receiving the warm glow of the sun throughout the morning thus far, so he was actually savoring the little job being completed.

“Dean, I need your assistance immediately!” came Castiel’s tone of urgency from nearby, and instantly startling him out of his own mind palace where thoughts were beginning to feel like sinking his toes into warm sand.

“Dammit, Cas!” the younger man sprung back from the gate and stared back in bewilderment, his heart hammering away as if trying to escape from his chest. There the older man stood, appearing quite unsettled although bundled up warmly and wearing the visage of a wealthy and handsome Prince. “What the hell happened?”

He tried to search his face, wondering if they were cracking instead of blooming.

“I’m out of paper and I need paper. Lots of it. Lined, of course, and perforated to fit in a binder,” the pacing began as Castiel wrung his gloved hands, decked out in the same expensive looking black leather trench coat, black tailored pants and an abundance of blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Dean, after becoming relieved that the emergency to him was not of a dangerous nature, settled down his nerves and sighed. He had an abundance of file pages upstairs in his bedroom, but judging from the sheets that the older man moved through whilst handling people’s finances, he was far too certain that a generous amount was needed. And it was really ridiculous that Castiel refused to utilize a software to complete his accounts, but rather he chose to draw lines and tables and populate them with words like assets and loans and terms that Dean was familiar with but never dabbled in.

“I also need a few more binders, folders and a cupcake.” Those blue eyes were wide and warm and pleading, and filled with so much innocence that Dean’s heart immediately melted. “Will you take me? I can only spare about two hours before my next client comes knocking.”

“A cupcake, Cas?” Dean curiously wondered if the suggestion contained something else.

“Yes,” the older man nodded and a small smile ghosted his lips.

He wanted to kiss him so deeply in that moment, to silence the worry and weaken the older man’s knees but even before he could act on any of these things, his hand was snatched. Castiel instantly patted down Dean’s brown coat pockets for the jingle of car keys and after pinpointing that they were more than prepared to head straight to the Impala, he entwined their gloved fingers and tugged the younger man towards the side of the house. And he would have been successful in getting them to speed away in a haste if such a series of events weren’t immediately prolonged by Dean.

“Wait a minute, sunshine.” Pulling the older man into his arms, Dean captured parted lips into a kiss that was soft at first but deepened enough to unearth a moan from both of them.

He thought that he needed to prove something, especially after feeling inexperienced and possibly inadequate through making love to Castiel, that he kept pushing their kiss deeper and deeper.

Castiel tasted like warm coffee, a hint of sugar and buttered toast; things that were toe curling and evidently substantial enough to press in a little more. Their bodies warmed gradually, hands snaking around each other’s waists and tugging until they could feel their hearts beating. There was no room to suffer from distance, and no matter how much Dean wanted to remain inside that kiss where they kept on tasting and the world around them disappeared, he also wanted Castiel without his clothes on.

Two days ago, when they experienced their first time in making love to each other, felt like such a long time to Dean that he was left to survive on dreams. Of daydreaming every single chance he managed, in between chores and conversations with other people, just to relive those memories. Knowing that he suddenly hated minutes and hours and other people’s finances and every single thing that deprived him of being with Castiel. And because he was finally able to have him again in his arms, Dean didn’t want to let go.

He captured the older man’s face between his gloved palms and rested their foreheads together, stealing soft kisses one after the other until Castiel’s lips trembled upon his own parted ones. It was mostly because of the growing passion between them that never faded but only intensified every time they were near to each other recently. The kind of passion that burned like a fire and filled up places inside of Dean that he never knew longed for so much love. His body became part of Castiel’s own when they guided each other towards a beautiful climax in the depths of the pool and because the separation felt like winter, coming together again was blissful and real and something he could not deprive himself of anymore.

Even inside the car they kept reaching for each other, although gloved hands entwined could have sufficed, Dean maintained his observation of the road ahead and still wandered his fingers between Castiel’s thighs. Feeling and trying to memorize inch by inch, becoming aware that they were too intoxicated by each other to ever stay away long enough from touching. Knowing that when there was silence between them now, those seconds were filled with their hands wandering and speaking volumes. And the more he searched Castiel through his clothes, the more he realized that he was very much lacking over the years in any physical form of love to feel immensely needy of giving and receiving it in any fashion.

By the time they neared the bookstore on Main Street though, right next door to a small café called The Cozy, a light snow began to cover Littleton and the sky darkened. It was almost ten, just around the time Dean would have liked to commence cleaning out the fireplace and replacing it with sufficient logs for the approaching storm. But there he was, gazing into Castiel’s blue eyes and brushing his gloved fingers across the evident blush on the older man’s right cheek.

“Claire was there not too long ago,” Dean said softly, as Castiel fumbled with his wallet and he seemed out of character. “Asking me how she could win a girl’s heart. And you know me…” he rolled his head onto the seat and smiled warmly, “I gave her my best advice based on my experience as a pretty damn good matchmaker.”

“You should write a book.”

Chuckling softly, Dean killed the engine and shrugged because he was far too convinced that no other love story would ever be worth writing compared to his own beautiful tale. “Might dabble in poetry or a few songs instead. What you think?” _Do you think I sucked at making out with you?_

“I think…that my opinion is biased regardless and therefore I will encourage you to pursue what you wish to. In all honesty,” Castiel said in an uneven tone, revealing that he was clearly affected by some kind of emotion, “you are destined to succeed in anything you attempt because you are very smart and absolutely special.”

“What about you, huh?” Dean didn’t wish to steal all the glory as the older man always abundantly delivered. “You been avoiding me these two days?”

When Castiel gazed back and blinked slowly, the car became warmer than the kind of cold feeling which seeped into their bones. “I haven’t. I’ve been busy as I’ve told you before.”

“Just thought that maybe I screwed up in the pool.”

“What?” Castiel’s sudden bewildered stare was enough to convince Dean that he was simply overreacting and nothing was done wrong on his part. “Of course, you didn’t. We’re both inexperienced. You mustn’t feel like you’re inadequate.”

“I can’t help it, if I’m insecure about—"

“Dean! I’ve said this to you before,” the older man seemed fatigued by the conversation and his blue eyes darkened, “a relationship does not only thrive on physically satisfying each other. It also relies heavily on everything else like trust and understanding. And now before we continue to waste time arguing about this, let’s go…” the door handle was reached for and after the two of them climbed out of the Impala, Dean lingered by the driver’s side just long enough to savor the feeling of his heart feeling severely crushed.

Was he wrong to feel like something was deeply affecting Castiel and why was he so fidgety and in a rush to obtain whatever he wanted in the store instead of taking a little time out of his day for the two of them to actually talk to each other?

Something was wrong, really and truly wrong and just before reaching the front door of the store, the older man suddenly stopped and turned around. His face registered nothing but fatigue and a sense of being terribly conflicted.

“Please forgive me for being like this,” he said softly, “I am severely overworked right now, bombarded by a multitude of clients who will not take a break through sorting out their finances…” when Dean wandered nearer, Castiel’s voice lowered, “egotistical assbutts who have no consideration for 9 to 5 office hours which leaves me severely tired every evening. I’m agitated and my head aches and there’s nothing I can do about it because _it’s my job_ so…”

"Maybe you should take a break because—" Dean tried to reach for his gloved hand but two obviously rude teenagers squeezed themselves through the gap between them and laughed whilst running away.

They gazed at each other until Castiel sighed and lowered his eyes. “Maybe you should be with someone who can spare all the time there is in the world. Maybe I’m proving to be a big disappointment.”

“Cas, no. That’s not—”

But instead of waiting for a reply, the older man turned around and pushed the door, which left Dean to stand there feeling like he was utterly confused and desperately in need of a continuation of the conversation. 

Inside the book store, there were two male FBI agents who obviously achieved incredibly high scores in the area of reflex and observation. Their eyes immediately turned to consider Dean’s entrance and after flicking to register Castiel’s hastened pace towards the aisle stocked with all sizes of paper, folders and cardboard, the shorter one wandered over. But his approach wasn’t easily missed since the store was light from foot traffic in the middle of the week. People really didn’t choose to buy stationery as Christmas drew nearer but would spend their money on gifts of other descriptions. And therefore, after his personal space was invaded as those green eyes scanned the magazine rack, Dean lifted his stare to consider no other than the familiar face of Lee Webb.

“That you, brother?” fitted into a black suit which immediately placed him as a distinguished federal agent, the childhood friend Dean was most fond of through his years at school stared back in awe.

“Holy shit,” he returned as a response, evidently surprised that they would ever meet again. “If it isn’t plain old Spiderweb. In the flesh!” pulling the other man into an embrace, Dean held onto him because the intense memories were all too much to ever forget. “Man, it’s been years! Look at you!”

The two of them scrutinized each other from head to toe and then remarked on the height difference still remaining fixed after such a long time. Back when they sat next to each other from kindergarten to Littleton High, those where the days when Dean couldn’t wait to run to school in the hopes of learning about Lee’s next fantastic science project.

He was the ever-enthusiastic kid who loved to experiment with many theories, from rockets to little legs crafted for animals who were wounded and had their limbs amputated. Lee's father, at the time, was actually the local veterinarian which meant that most of Dean’s time would have been spent on the weekends among dogs and cats. And then…something very tragic happened between them tore two close friends apart.

“I actually was telling my wife Peggy the other day that coming back to this town would make me instantly remember you. And I’d be so sad knowing that you moved on from here too. Not knowing, that you’re still in this damn cozy place. Isn’t this something?”

Married, of course, and comfortable; the kind of glow on his face that suggested becoming contented with whatever he possessed in the form of a family. And it was very much appreciated that the small boy who grew up without a mother, and a hardworking father, was braving the world in his own significant way.

“You a fed now, huh,” Dean was too impressed to conceal it and reaching out, he clipped the badge from his friend’s pocket and studied the credentials with a smile.

“James Bond was too awesome for me to not follow in his footsteps. And—” Lee stopped when Castiel hustled towards them and deposited a large stack of paper on the counter next to the magazine rack, huffing out a sigh of frustration.

Familiarity didn’t pass immediately because the two were probably never introduced to each other since Dean would always meet Lee at school and then at the animal clinic. They never spent time together at the Winchester’s house, and it was all because most of his friend’s spare time was occupied with assisting his father who always needed it with the many animals that required as much love and care on a daily basis.

“That _all_ , Cas?” Dean gazed at the older man’s adorably frustrated expression as he hung over the counter and awaited the cashier to complete the transaction. “You sure you not missing anything else?”

“I’m sure.” Castiel’s eyes wandered at last to the FBI agent and after gathering his own judgments, he searched Dean’s face because as usual, he was quick to decipher things.

Whatever was passing through his mind though, was a bit of a mystery to the younger man who immediately moved to introductions. “Cas, uh, this is Lee Webb. One of my school friends from back in the days. Lee, this is…” it was on the tip of his tongue, and very much warm enough to reveal, “…Castiel, my significant other…”

“Because the term _boyfriend_ is so unsuited, hello,” the older man extended his hand and a firm handshake followed whilst Lee stared at him with so much awe. “It’s wonderful to be suddenly overwhelmed by faces from the past.”

“Hi, nice to meet you…” Lee, of course, still could not drink in Castiel’s energetic personality all at once so instead, he turned to Dean and widened his eyes, “you’ve got to be shitting me. You’ve been _gay_ ,” he whispered, “all this time and you never said anything to me back then? How fair is that, man?”

“Gay only for _him_ ,” Dean returned with a smile and frowned at the same time as Castiel hustled the cashier and then stole the plastic bags away so that he could pack the items himself. “Guess you could say that I kind of _moved on_ in a way. I mean, all I need is right here in this town and it’s always been here. How long you been married?”

Lee was sending his friend quite a surprising smile for obvious reasons, reasons that the two of them relived secretly through the meeting of their eyes. “Five years now with a one year old son who doesn’t sleep at nights. Gives me hell but he’s my pride and joy. Guess I can’t ask you if you’ve got a kid of your own.”

“In a way, I kind of do,” Dean recalled Claire and his heart sighed from actually beginning to embrace such a role in her life. “But you beat me to the marriage part though. Someday, I guess. When one of us decides to pop the question.”

“Brother,” Lee couldn’t contain his excitement as he tugged the two of them away into a corner and faced Dean with mild fascination, “I wasn’t expecting this at all. Not that I’m judging you. Of course, I’d never judge you. But this is such a shocker to me that you’d actually end up with a guy and not just any guy. He looks…” after considering Castiel again, who was entertaining a conversation with the cashier in hushed tones, Lee shook his head, “like a fucking Prince. He’s got to be filthy rich judging from his damn coat and shoes. My friend, you hit the fucking jackpot.”

“Not that I’m with him because of his money,” Dean admitted openly and received only a deepened stare, “come on, man. Believe it or not, I’m actually _in love_ with him. And he’s not so bad. He might seem a bit…” Castiel chose in that moment to wave his hands about as if extremely animating a fantastic story to the cashier who laughed in return, “…strange. But he’s won me over, man.”

“You’d say the same thing about Peggy. She’s what you would consider as your most ideal definition of a nerd. She’s a biochemist. I guess we both found our own slices of heaven in the most unusual people, huh?” Lee chuckled and Dean joined in. “He seems way older though.”

“Which makes him even sexier to me.”

“Damn,” Lee was too impressed to even stifle his gasp, and instead, he clamped a hand on his friend’s right shoulder and squeezed. “Keep it burning in any way you can. Just never thought…” shaking his head, still in awe, Webb chuckled and tucked his badge into the pocket of his black tailored jacket again. "I mean, after what happened between us…"

"Water under the bridge," Dean waved it off with a nervous chuckle. "Don’t mention what's stale after so many years, man. You had your thing going, I had mine."

"Yeah, just the awkward kid who had a crush on you. What happened at that bonfire…tore us apart in ways that I can never forgive myself for and it's good to see you after all these years so that I can tell you that truly, I'm sorry. I really am, Dean."

“You know, it's kind of vague in my mind." The memories were too harsh to settle on and therefore he decided to tuck them away. "Why you guys here anyway?” Dean studied the other Fed who approached them, never quite smiling and revealing his eyes behind black sunglasses. “Passing through?”

Swiping a copy of Entertainment Weekly from the rack, Lee studied it and sighed because his friend's signature move was to deflect. “Nah. Wish we were. Then it would give me time to revisit a couple of places here and there like the animal shelter for instance. Heard it’s still there and taken over by some rich dude who owns a bunch of other ones around the country. Really and truly,” he flipped the pages idly as his voice settled into a softer tone, “we’re here investigating that drug bust you probably know about. The one involving the fucking church. Of all the clichés…”

Dean’s eyes widened after realizing that the appearance of the two agents should have been much more obvious in its intention to him. “Heard about it. I guess since the town’s so small, something like that can’t just blow over.”

He was advised to appear oblivious through questioning by any law enforcement authority by no other than Castiel. Coupled with Balthazar’s advise as well, he nor his father were allowed to discuss their personal attachment to a man who had proven to be a scoundrel in every sense of the word.

“We basically came here to poke around the place, ask a couple questions to the local Sheriff, deputy too. Jody still running things?”

“Yup, and her wife too.”

Castiel finally wandered over and unearthed a small chuckle from Dean as he pushed the younger man’s black framed glasses a little more up the bridge of his nose. It was a very affectionate and teasing gesture, one he entertained for many years and because Dean was so accustomed to lighthearted humor, he wouldn’t have realized that to an outsider, especially the two agents, the small move was a very revealing one although playful. Even the cashier smiled warmly from the open display of affection between the two men and perhaps the grandest strike of luck would have been everyone’s acceptance instead of opposition.

“Anything you can tell us about the whole shitshow?” Dean collected one of the bags from Castiel and leaned into his touch, feeling exceptionally adored and loved.

“Well,” Lee glanced back at his partner and then offered his friend a shrug, “not much we _can_ say but the worst of it happened here years ago and then relocated to other parts of the country. So, I guess you can think of Crowley like the eagle who migrated his business because there were no opportunities here.”

“A Steller’s Sea Eagle, more like,” Castiel contributed with that wide-eyed, consumed of immense knowledge kind of gazes, “heaviest breed and very vicious. Almost extinct as he will quickly become.”

“I for one think that he’s nasty…” Lee leaned in and whispered to both of them, because he couldn’t divulge much but was quite trusting of his childhood friend. “Had a couple run ins with him back in New York and the man is a conniving asshole. He never really engaged in the prostitution bit, but he partook in selling the bodies if you know what I mean…”

“Nasty business,” Castiel appeared disgusted by the topic and after slipping an arm through Dean’s left, he sighed. “I wish you the best of luck in your investigation and hope that it proves fruitful in a manner of speaking…”

“Well,” Lee extended a hand again and collected two shakes from either man, “we’ll need all the luck we can get and if you don’t mind, maybe we can grab a drink before I head out tomorrow. You know, to catch up…”

Whilst the two exchanged numbers and continued the conversation, Castiel wandered over to the water dispenser, collected a plastic cup and filled it. His throat wasn’t parched, but he felt the need to allow Dean the space to interact with someone who was obviously really important from his past. Someone who appeared to have shared many years with the younger man and still Castiel was only ever privy to a name instead of the opportunity to meet the individual.

Now he wasn’t entirely vexed because such an attitude would prove very immature and uncalled for, but what he experienced was the kind of sinking feeling of finally realizing that just when he thought he was well-versed in Dean Winchester, the truth was plain as ever.

There was an abundance of secrets from the younger man's past that drifted towards the surface in the most unexpected ways recently. Benny's lamentations about his admiration towards his friend, openly voicing his feelings and leaving Castiel to wonder whether Dean was aware of the truth many years ago. Possibly. He could have known, chose to digress and moved on despite never relating any of this to his own best friend. _Him_. The one person who stood by his side through thick and thin, comforted him and gave him the benefit of the doubt. The one person who he considered as his most trusted companion, now coming to the realization that not only one but two friends from Dean's past left imprints of massive significance.

Whatever else had happened during the younger man’s teenage years that he labelled as regretful experiences, Castiel wished that he could learn of those things. But then if he became aware of those, then would he feel a sense of being blamed for his lack of intrusion or rather much too deeply engrossed in being abandoned from the thrills and youthful adventures?

Lee though…

Sam, many years ago, heavily mentioned an incident that occurred at a bonfire on the outskirts of town which involved the passing around of drugs and heightened conversations. Of course, Dean brushed the matter off back in those days as a ridiculous one, but his brother was far too convinced of what he witnessed, and after seeking out the confidence of Castiel, he related the story. Quite a strange one it was, but very possible that whilst intoxicated and soaring on youthful adrenaline, Lee chanced a kiss, in anything but a friendly nature but examined by Sam to be influenced by buried feelings. And although the younger Winchester was eleven at the time and couldn’t really understand why he went looking for his brother and ended up faced with a startling scene, he rushed back into the confidence of a man he thought would believe him without scolding.

Their friendship continued after that night for a year, and then Lee was swept out of town and never heard of again. But whilst those twelve months passed by, Castiel examined Dean carefully but to no avail, proving that a slip of the veil revealed inward secretive feelings on one side but was never reciprocated. And maybe the instance of both Lee then Benny falling for Dean must have been warranted as deserving according to Castiel, because after all, he _was_ very handsome and equipped with an abundance of smarts. But what puzzled the older man was his lover’s inability to even realize these things as significant over the years, and never even debating his sexuality until now. And just as Dean proved to be completely oblivious to the other two men’s advances, he was always blinded by Castiel’s undying love for him in all areas.

He claimed to _want_ him, to crave his touch and intimacy, to wish for nothing but elaboration on the reasons why he was loved and chosen when there was nothing special about him. In all truth though, Castiel needed no reasons why he thought of Dean as _still beautiful_ , still the Dean Winchester he had always known. Still the most caring and loving man, the one who changed him and literally saved his world when everything else inside of it was crumbling and ripped at the seams. The one little soul who used to chase away the fears and the tears, who needed sheltering and pampering, who grew up to be the most attractive and kind hearted human being Castiel had ever known.

 _That_ Dean Winchester was an embodiment of so many reasons to love.

But the secrets bothered him to an extent where Castiel stood there by the magazine rack observing Lee lightly touching Dean's arm and he thought to himself…what makes _me_ so special? All of the doubts the younger man would have voiced in Castiel's office a few days ago came to light in the reverse, only difference was that this time, Castiel wasn't asking why he was worthy of Dean's love and tenderness. He was fighting with the fear of being completely inadequate, of never being able to stay spritely and energetic for too long because he would grow old faster than Dean. He would slow down perhaps later than sooner but he _would_ and they were twenty years apart, something that shouldn't have bothered him but actually served as a slight worry.

Twenty years meant a lot of things to Castiel such as twenty compared to perhaps five in terms of another young man walking into Dean's life and proving to be quite advantageous in all respects. Twenty years meant that he was advanced in his career, constantly sinking in paperwork and numbers, never working nine to five but as early as eight to past nine in the evening. There were times when he might not be able to receive calls because of the severity and confidential aspects of people's finances, and what would happen when Dean needed him? In the past he would have dropped everything to run to his side in any emergency but as of recent, his workload became so intense that most days he couldn't even spare fifteen minutes to consume a decent lunch.

Castiel observed Lee touching Dean's arm again and something inside of him felt like a vice grip, being overprotective already because if Lee was the reason why Dean became a target to violence years ago, then this wasn't ideally a _friend_. Benny never was the kind to avoid bad influences and these men were far too destructive to someone he absolutely loved and cared for in every way possible.

What was happening to him?

He felt so overwhelmed all of a sudden that the magazine returned to the rack and Castiel swallowed a small lump, his neck growing warmer because this was so unbecoming of him. Possessiveness? Was this detrimental to the both of them already, even though these were early days? Most definitely he should step back, gather his thoughts and make a general decision on a few things but whilst he also lacked the ability to definite what an ideal relationship should entail, so did Dean. And both of them were flailing, would make mistakes and entertain self-doubts until they conducted some major work on each other.

When they were seated across from each other in a corner of The Cozy, awaiting two cups of coffee and two cupcakes, the silence settled between them with many questions on both sides. The café entertained a few people because lunch was approaching fast, but no one seemed to even consider the two men at a table since they were known as lifelong best friends already. So, whilst the smell of freshly baked cakes, vanilla and scones filled the air, a light flush rested on Dean’s face as he inched his fingers across the table and locked their eyes.

Immediately Castiel took his gloved right hand, smiling warmly and realizing that maybe love to Dean had always been something that he thought was never deserving. Until he completely cracked from the heavy weight of jealousy and was forced to embrace the generous affections another man could shower upon him and had been consistently achieving over the many years they were friends.

“Do you mind if I hang out with Lee later?” he considered their fingers entwined and upturned their hands so that his thumb could caress the other man’s left palm through the soft black leather.

Castiel, in turn, sighed and tugged a little at the blue scarf wrapped around his neck. “I really do not trust this man."

“Why? Because he’s one of the dudes investigating Crowley?”

They studied each other's gazes until Dean's raised eyebrows urged a response but it wasn't one that Castiel could provide truthfully because then he would have to elaborate on Sam highlighting the incident many years ago. And he wished not to dwell on something that Dean never found necessary or important to relate to him at that point. Maybe he wasn't trusted enough…

"Yes. He is an FBI agent. These people are two-faced and very much _not_ the type of friends one should entertain."

"Cas, he's not a threat, like _really_ , he's a dick but it'll just be us catching up—"

"On what exactly?" Castiel pried, rather…he rushed out before his mind could even process the severity of the question and then as green eyes widened, he cleared his throat. "Forgive me, but I cannot help but feel like there isn't much catching up to do since you two have already spent half an hour briefing each other. Is there a wealth of details you would like to relive from the past when you two would have shared all of it already?"

"He's…I mean…" Dean fumbled after completely losing his trail of thought because of conflicting meanings gathered from the older man's statements. "Wait…I'm kind of lost. Are you saying that it's not necessary?"

"It's not necessary."

"Cas, why the hell not? I mean, he's just a pal of mine and it would be nice to have a beer or—"

"No drinking," the older man folded his arms and sat back, leveling a cool stare and stolid expression. "Not after what occurred in New York."

"Okay, fine, no beer then because I'll have to drive back home after we're done but—"

"You're not driving home in the dark through that awfully shadowed forest, Dean," Castiel didn't realize his voice was strained until his throat began to ache a little. "I cannot stand the thought of you trying to brave your way through the night, knowing that your eyes aren't entirely sharp in the dark. Your glasses are adequate, but not a great help in terms of night driving."

"Then I'll take a damn taxi," Dean said, growing irritated, "okay? I'll hang with him, maybe until eight-ish and then I'll grab a cab—"

"Dean—"

"Cas, look, man," Dean scrubbed his face quickly and inhaled deeply in order to return to some sense of calm, "I get that you're worried about me, alright? I get that you're so in love with me you just don't want anything bad to happen, but I'm old enough to make my own choices."

"Then if that’s the case, why would you even ask me whether you should entertain Lee's company for the evening?" Castiel said in a low tone, signaling that he was bruised as eye contact was avoided. "You're entitled to make your own decisions so go ahead and make them without my consent."

"Are you okay?" Dean frowned deeply and could literally feel his heart sinking lower inside his chest because the same feeling was returning, that they were not on the same page. "Cause you seem really weird today."

"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel lied and allowed his gloved fingers to be taken on the table, "I'm fine. I'm just overworked."

"Then let me love you, you know? Let me…" Dean squeezed the older man's hand and tried a smile despite worry eating away at him, "…let me kind of chase the stress away by reminding you that you're amazing and my superhero and you're everything I want. You're my supernova…" their table was quickly approached and his words faltered.

He eyed the busty waitress uniformed in yellow and quickly avoided her batting eyelashes, unlacing his fingers with Castiel’s own. The reflexive action was not unnoticed by the older man though, who merely stared back and observed the scene before him.

After resting their cups of coffee on the table, the young woman produced the plate bearing two cupcakes; one blue and the other pink and then her gray eyes rested on Dean. “Anything else, hot stuff?”

“Ah, no, thanks,” he supplied a shake of his head and then barely glanced at Castiel who was studying green eyes with mild fascination. “You good, huggy bear?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome, well…” Dean realized that he was boldly admired by the waitress and immediately felt uncomfortable because whenever something like that occurred recently, he would usually be in the company of Charlie or his father. But because he was with someone who he happened to be in a relationship with, the scrutiny just didn’t feel like it reached him in a casual mood.

“I get off at five, if you’re interested…” Daisy, according to her small pink nametag informed him, blonde hair tumbling down her back.

Dean was staring at Castiel and he wished that he could read the older man’s mind because he was being considered with a small smile that seemed rather much mocking. “I’m kind of uh…” scratching his forehead, he slipped his fingers in between gloved ones once again and offered the waitress a shy smile, “…not available. We’re…together.”

“Oh shoots!” immediately her face lit up with embarrassment coupled afterwards with the kind of awe that only appeared when someone was very open-minded and too kind enough to feel threatened. “I am _so_ sorry. Honestly, I haven’t seen a hot guy in here for what’s felt like ages. So, when you came in, I was like…great! Just in time for Christmas and all…”

Dean laughed genuinely and nodded, “I get it. Don’t give up hope though.” _I almost did and look what happened_. “Chances are that Prince Charming is going to come sooner than later.”

“Thanks for believing in what I’m beginning to think is a lost cause for me,” Daisy winked at Castiel and snorted, “God, I am so sorry I hit on your boyfriend. You should get used to it though. He’s fine as hell.”

When she wandered to another table and left the two of them alone, Dean raised his eyebrows at the older man and thought that the absence of a reply was a little too strange. In fact, the presentation of such an incident should have fueled Castiel with enough humor to tease him but it appeared as if he could never estimate the outcome of certain things as best as he thought he could. What did he expect? For his hand to be taken instead and the older man to make the announcement?

“She was right, you know,” Dean provided as he sipped his coffee and slid off his right glove to tease the chocolate sprinkles on the pink cupcake. “About me being fine as hell.”

Castiel shook his head, and carefully pried his own blue cupcake apart as if trying to diffuse a bomb. The delicacy in handling the snack was a little too mesmerizing for the younger man to ignore. “Every woman in Littleton has always wanted you, Dean. That's not surprising to me."

"Count yourself lucky, Castiel Novak,” Dean said without smiling, chewing on his cupcake and savoring the sweetness and softness of the treat. "I gave in to you," he said softly and shrugged as he slipped on his glove again, "when I could have given it all up to someone else, I chose you."

The tinkle of the bell above the door welcomed two new customers and as they settled at a nearby table, the young man boldly leaned in and kissed his girlfriend on her lips. It was something that Dean really wished that he could achieve in that moment, but the fear of judgmental stares would only turn their date into an uncomfortable one. So, he diverted his gaze on the romantic pair, realized the older man was still considering his face intently and then Dean settled back with a sigh.

“So if I screw this up, and I prove to be many things you wish not to favor, would you give in to someone else?” Castiel asked suddenly, his words faltering in the end when he reached for his coffee, sipped and avoided eye contact. "Is that what you're trying to tell me subtly? That you will tolerate me until I prove to be quite mediocre compared to all the other women out there who want you?"

The questions hit him like throwing buckets of iced water into his face. “Cas, don’t,” Dean stared back, instantly growing cold from the change in the conversation which proved to be very awkward all of a sudden. "That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

"Then what _did_ you mean, Dean?" blue eyes could never tear away from green ones and the cup was reached for, then a slow sip taken. "I'm curious to know what your expectations are in terms of a relationship, sex, everything there is. Are we supposed to formulate rules? Am I even living up to your expectations?"

Why the prying? All of a sudden the spotlight was on the younger man and he began to feel slightly crippled from the growing weight. The self-analysis was proving to be very intimidating, especially when he thought they moved past that episode.

"Of course you are. Man, the twenty one questions is killing me right now," Dean tried to laugh it off nervously, breaking the intense gaze and squeezing the bridge of his nose. "And I don't know about rules. What are you talking about? Whether I should be allowed to hang with people from my past who show up? Because that's obviously a definite no. And whilst we're on that topic, is this because I slighted Hanna? Is that why you're against me hanging with some other guy?"

“Are you trying to ascertain whether I'm jealous or not? Hmm?" Castiel stared back and his lips remained parted, "because I am, Dean. Okay?" he swallowed hard and thumped his head back onto the wall whilst sitting sideways in the small booth. "I am ashamed of my thoughts because here I am on the verge of growing entirely paranoid about someone else swooping into your life and stealing you away from me."

Dean couldn't believe the directness and how wrong the assumptions were. "Cas, you can't be serious right now."

The earlier suspicion that something was awry, that a heavy weight was settling between them and the fear that the ball would drop suddenly when he wasn’t prepared…

"Possibly this is the worst fear I've ever had in my entire life, that I would find the one person I deem as the perfect one for me," Castiel croaked, fingers trembling a little as thumbed the lip of his mug, "and then they would simply…move on because I am inadequate and older and not entirely _seasoned_. I am also very much peculiar, am _not_ modern and these things…all of them, you're quite knowledgeable on so you must understand why I feel mediocre to someone like Benny or Lee or even Charlie."

"Cas, don't think like that, man." Dean bypassed all fear of prying eyes and reached across the table, collecting those same fingers between his gloved ones, then he squeezed softly, reassuringly but those blue orbs refused to meet his own searching ones. "You're amazing to me, okay? There's nothing about you that I have a problem with. And I've always told you, I'd choose you above everyone else, man. The world of men and women out there, who I'm going to meet and I'd still choose you because you're one of a kind."

“I’m sorry…” Castiel said in a small voice, wondering too how his insecurities could just rise to the surface without his ability to control any of it. "This is me trying to tell you that if there is someone better that comes along, then Dean…you should—"

"I should what?" leaning over the table a little, the younger man stared back in disbelief. "Give up? After all we've been through, I should just hit another random skirt? I look like a butterfly to you that flits around?"

"You're not to be tied down by an old man who lives in a boring estate."

"I want to be."

"Dean, you are young and beautiful and deserve the world—"

"And I want you."

"What if you're just tolerating me until the next best option comes along? Hmm?" it pained Castiel to voice his fears but he felt compelled to as green eyes widened again. "What if I'm temporary and this is all just a learning experience for you?"

"You think this is a damn experiment to me?" Dean couldn’t believe it, considering the injustice of being misunderstood by the one person he thought would give him endless room for optimism. "Are you freaking serious right now?"

Castiel considered him with a slow blink and his chest heaved before there was no reply. None, instead whilst he was struggling to form a sentence, the hurricane built up on the other end of the table, causing Dean to wonder after such blatant disrespect towards his character. He discovered that a slice of anger touched his chest, cracked his heart like a small poisonous stream and his eyes fluttered close. Tears were held at bay, hot, scalding tears that seared his temples and created so much tension that began to initiate a migraine.

"I’m sorry—"

"Stop being—" Dean inhaled deeply because he realized his tone of voice climbed and slightly disturbed the other man's composure, "stop being so damn apologetic to me right now. Let's just eat and shut up instead of going in that direction. I'm not going to break down and cry in public because of insecurities that shouldn't be there anymore. I'm not. So just…let it go."

"I cannot let it go, Dean—"

"Cas, I swear, if you breathe another word of that conversation to me, you'll change my whole damn mood." The two of them stared at each other until the air became heavy with emotions that created waves of displeasure. It didn't bode well with Dean because he was far from stable in that moment and wished to return to when they were far too beautiful to burn out.

"Okay, do you wish to order anything else?" Castiel's voice hoarsened, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm going to try the tuna salad. Would you like one too?"

When Dean refused to answer because he was overwhelmed by so many emotions to even brave eye contact, he downed the last of his coffee and sat there rigidly. They were levelled and then unsteady so fast, that the uncertainty frightened him, of course he could admit that much. The doubts that rose up like a wave and threatened to drown them both just when they were at the beginning of something that felt so surreal.

“Dean?”

“What.” Settling into the corner near the wall, the younger man hunched his shoulders and idly picked at his gloved fingers.

Castiel stared back and felt so ashamed of himself, for actually becoming too out of control with his comments that he feared the air between them was too fragile. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dean sighed. “Of course, you didn’t. You never do apparently but always manage to get a rise out of me.” In the process of reaching for his coffee, what little remained of it, his hand was quickly taken and he immediately broke down because the gesture was so reminiscent of another occasion. The cinema, when the two of them were arguing over Jo and Castiel reached for his hand as if trying to reassure him that despite their quarrels, they would always have each other.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m fatigued and like I said…overworked and my mind is extremely weak. I’ve been rethinking a lot of things every single time there is room to ponder,” Castiel swallowed and frowned because he suddenly couldn’t breathe and the air between them was becoming too electric but not in a good way. “My job takes time away. I cannot be there as much as I want. I’m getting older and I become tired faster and I don’t want to weigh you down. What if I’m not there when you need me? Hmm?” Castiel suddenly realized that he pushed a little too much and wished to fix it.

Dean frowned deeply because of the confusing statement and immediately realized what the true intentions were. “What are you trying to tell me, man?” he whispered, a painful crack widening inside of his chest because he could quickly become paranoid and such words only added fuel to the fire. “What does all of this mean? Why does this sound like the beginning to a goodbye?”

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous—”

“I’m being ridiculous? I’m…” the younger man considered the way blue eyes turned away and the colors around him that were usually brighter, dulled considerably. “You’re unbelievable,” Dean shook his head and stared back in awe because he would never have believed that Castiel would ever lose faith in them. “I don’t care how tired you are, how overworked you are. But you’re not allowed to give up on us. You’re not allowed to even think of me leaving you for someone else. It’s not going to happen in this lifetime unless you walk away first and if that happens, if you’re considering it, then don’t.”

Castiel locked their eyes whilst his expression remained saddened and he sighed. Picking up a paper napkin, he carefully dabbed at his wet eyelashes before folding the square into a triangle. “I’d never consider leaving you. And don't lay it out as if I'm the one to be blamed when I am entitled to have feelings. I have _feelings_ , Dean. You cannot expect me to be all the way optimistic.” And appearing angered by their banter up to that point, he folded his arms. "I am not a perfect Prince Charming."

But Dean was far from becoming settled by the rising tension between them. “Then fine. You're not perfect but neither am I so stop believing that I’m going to run off with some damn woman because it’s insulting and it’s making me feel like you think I’m reckless or something. I’m in a relationship with you. Not the world.”

“I can’t even have a conversation with you without feeling like it’s always going to turn into an argument,” Castiel provided in a level tone that suggested he was bordering on anger and absolute tears. "Why are you like this to me? Hmm? Why do you get so defensive whenever I wish to speak about my feelings?"

“Maybe you should stop trying to bring up stuff that’s ridiculous to begin with.” Dean sat back and rolled his eyes and the older man considered him with open disapproval, because the reaction was bitter.

“If it’s ridiculous then why are you becoming so flustered about it?” the older man asked stiffly. “Is it because _you_ have been thinking the same things too? Actually you have, haven't you? Over and over again, you've lamented how I deserve better so was that you self=projecting, believing that _you_ deserve better?"

"Listen to yourself, man!" Dean fired back and could feel the flames crackling inside his chest. "Jesus Christ, Cas, this is bullshit with the way you're behaving right now because none of this crap even makes sense. None of this fits well at all because I just feel as if you're trying to convince me that I'm supposed to think we don't have a good thing going on between us. I feel like you _want_ me to change my way of thinking, like you want me to go backwards instead of forwards. And I'm fed up at this point. I can't do this, man. I just can't handle you becoming the paranoid one because that's me. That's always been me, not you."

"Dean, I'm just being realistic—"

"Then don't!"

"Don't raise your…" Castiel stopped, inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath as his blue eyes darkened and then glistened with tears. The couple nearest to them stared back, as did a waitress who happened to pass by at the same time and these reactions were painful and bruised him. "Dean, do not raise your voice. You're drawing unnecessary attention when we can speak about this like adults and—"

"You're the one who ruined it, so don't sit there and try to make me feel like I’m being sensitive about this," Dean was crying already, turning his face sideways to conceal his tears from whoever happened to glance their way. He pulled off his glasses weakly and pressed the heels of his palm onto closed eyes that burned. "I hope you're happy that you're making me embarrass my damn self."

"Go out with Lee," Castiel said hoarsely, his voice a whisper, "have fun and drink beers, live your life because you're young and allowed to be as carefree as possible. Do all of these things without me. You've done it before with him and Benny and you've had the best time of your life but when it comes to me, I'm the old burden who will always want to protect you, to smother you with love. I'm always going to be the one who screws up your best moments, right Dean?" Castiel understood that his face was wet but he couldn't care less about who witnessed his demise. "I'm not entitled to have you because you're like…trying to grasp the sunshine in between my fingers and knowing that you're so overwhelming and beautiful and endless that you cannot be tied down. Dean…you cannot be—"

“You know what? Screw you, Cas,” Dean suddenly said, tugging away his hand as Castiel reached for it, and eyes filling with tears again, he rose up from the table and after feeling so heavily burdened by anger, sought out the washroom in a haste.

In there, he turned on the faucet, felt the cold water spray onto his gloved hands and didn’t even realize how unfortunate it was to disregard something so stupid. He was so bruised, becoming buried under rough waves that his inability to remove his own gloves proved that his mind was a million miles away. And after standing there and staring at himself in the mirror, a face that paled and eyes that leaked tears, Dean turned off the spray of water and wandered into an empty stall.

Was it normal for someone who loved you endlessly to consider the option of giving you up if the next best person came knocking at your door? Happiness was attainable if something like that happened? Since when did people stop fighting for who they loved? Since when did it become normal to consider a choice between holding on and letting go? Why was Castiel even pondering on letting him go? The answer had to be the most obvious.

Dean started to cry when he honestly thought that he wasn’t worthy enough to fight for.

After the waitress flirted with him, Castiel chose to consider the scene in silence instead of acting on his claim. Instead of reaching out and taking Dean’s hand, or speaking about him being unavailable, the older man offered no words. He didn’t even confirm the match between them but thought it was best to sit on the back burner. And Dean really wished that he spoke up in defense, he really wished that Castiel could have returned a reply in the form of ‘we’re most certainly happy’ or ‘I’m sorry but he belongs to me’. Instead, he just stared and wondered about the 'what ifs' and built up his doubts just enough to consider that Dean could have other options and those options could be the next best one.

He felt entirely ashamed of such weakness after realizing that he craved Castiel and he was so _needy_. All the things desired, he couldn’t have acquired easily unless he asked and he wasn’t prepared to ask. He wasn’t the type of man who would invade someone’s space unless the invitation was extended. And every single time they were apart, it seemed ridiculous that Castiel was just across the short distance of the moor and he never really frequented the Winchester’s house like he used to. Even during Christmas, he used to come over at least once every day. Now, he was suddenly swamped with work and couldn’t even spare half an hour for them to see each other.

His insecurities were so tremendous that Dean kept crumbling and sinking deeper down into that hole of low self-esteem that he couldn’t pull himself out. He wanted to be loved, to be understood, to be appreciated and claimed by Castiel. He wanted to be told that he would not be given up and if someone flirted with him, then Castiel would fight for him. Maybe he would come right out and agree that they were in this together for the long haul.

After removing himself from the washroom, he returned to the café and painfully highlighted that the table they occupied was vacant. Finding Castiel outside leaning onto the car, Dean unlocked the door whilst avoiding eye contact and he stiffly slipped inside.

The silence was so brutal between them that after swinging onto the road and reaching a red light, blue orbs stared at a face that was purposely turned away from him. The snowstorm was coming, already hovering above the town and read to fall with enough fierceness that the warnings on the radio were enough to cancel Dean’s plans with Lee. And he was thankful because he didn’t believe facing his friend would even be suitable because of the mood he was in. Tomorrow would be most advantageous and by then, the worst of the storm would pass over them.

When the Impala nosed its way into the yard and crawled towards the fountain dusted in snow, he killed the engine and emerged with a chest consumed by emotions he detested so much, that he hated himself.

“Dean…” Castiel tried, his voice cracking tremendously. “Can we please talk?”

"About what?" Dean's vision was clouded by tears as he turned around and considered blue ones that were also brimming, "you want to start looking for my next best option? How about you put out an advertisement announcing that I’m _looking_ , huh? Include an age range whilst you're at it—"

"Dean—"

"Go home, Cas."

They stared at each other, the older man terribly wounded by the directive until his face flushed from a wave of emotions. "I can't go home," Castiel said hoarsely, cautiously stepping closer and drowning in pain. "I want to be with you. I want to hold you and kiss you and try to explain why I've said the things I've said, why I'm like this. And if you could just—"

Instead, the younger man left the car unlocked so that the bags could be retrieved and without sparing any response, he retreated towards the front door. From there, Dean let himself inside before he could turn back and expel all of the question marks inside of his mind and he weakly climbed he steps. Then after closing his bedroom door, he tumbled onto his bed and stayed there crying into the sheets whilst still hating the actuality of reducing himself to a sobbing teenage girl.

 _Stop bitching about it. Boohoo. Grow up and act like a damn man_ , Bobby would warn. His father, on the other hand, would consider his son’s face, ask him to grab some tools and work the steam off under a car. Ellen would require a heart to heart immediately. Charlie would bring up the tub of ice cream and feed him like a baby because he _was_ being such a baby about this.

From the moment Castiel came over that day, the agitation showed, the inability to remain composed but rather much frustrated. Now, they quarreled and he left the older man standing in the yard, because why? He could not level himself enough to consider their conversation in a lighthearted manner. He had to ruin every single thing, had to behave like a petulant child because he would always be a child to Castiel and maybe that was the problem; that he spent so many years as the wide-eyed kid whilst the older man provided support and love as an adult.

Dean realized that if he couldn’t pull his socks up and refrain from being so paranoid, then their relationship would crumble. He would be left to indeed consider another alternative and it was one that would kill him in every way possible. His family would detest the outcome, he would never be able to entertain Castiel’s company lightly again, and worst of all, no one else would ever compare to someone who owned his heart and had owned it for twenty-five years.

He wasn’t even aware of welcoming a thick and dreamless sleep until being roused softly by Ellen’s hushed voice sometime after. By then, Dean was too ravished by emotions to even roll over without groaning, and shielding his eyes that were sensitive and sore from crying, he considered the older woman with a frown.

“Honey, what happened?” she was immediately available for him to rant and would always be there if he needed to.

Dean, though, didn’t wish to lament on his woes because he believed that everything was his own fault. “Just something stupid. I’ll be…” he rolled over and then sat up weakly, “…good as new soon. What time is it?”

“Almost seven and it’s storming like a bitch outside,” she rubbed his back like the olden days when he would become too upset by something and Dean leaned into her touch. “Cas looks like he’s on the verge of tears by the way. Maybe you should come down—”

“Don’t think I can…”

“Nothing is ever so bad between you that a hug can’t fix right away,” Ellen would always provide the kind of advice that proved to successful. “After all, ain’t he your sweetheart now? You two love each other too much to stay mad at each other. Whatever it was, there’s plenty of good times you two can go back on to patch whatever it is.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that the good times would even cement the belief in Castiel’s mind that he wouldn’t wander into the arms of someone else. And that was the contributing factor to his anger, because he couldn’t decide what to do to justify the abundance of his love and the loyalty which seemed like the surest thing.

Maybe he should buy a ring and propose to him, then Castiel would finally realize that Dean was ready to spend the rest of his life with _him_ instead of picking up a waitress or running off with a beautiful woman. But all of those things were far too reckless to consider in that moment, and despite his soured mood, he showered and showed up downstairs.

However, from the appearance of his downcast demeanor, the entire setting was refreshed by a laughing group of people consisting of his father, Ellen and Charlie. And when he discovered that she was among their midst, Dean’s spirits lightened somewhat after she rushed towards him in smiles.

“You need to stop tiring yourself out. I came over to talk to you and _you_ actually slept for like half a day.” She studied his face carefully and highlighted the puffy eyes and paler complexion and immediately a hug was offered. “Oh, Dean. What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Can’t talk about it now but believe me, I’m good,” he lied whilst noticing Castiel emerging from the kitchen, balancing a cup of tea on a saucer.

From the moment their eyes met though, the older man stalled by the doorway and stared back, parted lips revealing how Dean’s entrance wasn’t prepared for at all. Apparently, he must have believed that the evening would pass without the two of them meeting each other and since Dean was suddenly overwhelmed by recalling their earlier conversation, he diverted his eyes to the carpeted floor instead. By then Charlie pulled away from the embrace and was privy to the angst between the two men, so naturally, she stood awkwardly considering the scene until Ellen’s bout of laughter distracted them all.

Afterwards, when Castiel chose the single armchair and seemed intrigued by the conversation between John and the older woman, Dean wandered to the table and settled onto a chair with the red head by his side.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re good about any of this,” she said softly after pulling out a deck of cards, of course designed in pink with floral patterns. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean debated on the actuality of expressing whatever happened and then decided to vacate the hurt from inside his chest. “He thinks he's my temporary fix,” he began, helping her to flatten the cards so that they could begin a matching game. “In other words, this is just an experiment for me and I'm going to find someone else and move on because I feel like I deserve better and he does too.”

“Oh geez,” she paused whilst arranging the deck and studied his face with a worried look, “so he really thinks that you’re not in it for the long haul? That sucks, considering what I know about you and how much you’re invested. I mean…” she straightened a card and frowned, “it happens, to be honest. There’s always that doubt that hey…maybe I’m not good enough and someone else will come waltzing into Dorothy’s life. But I guess we don’t really worry about it being some other guy since she’s a lesbian and I’m beginning to think that I am too. For you though…you're into women too.”

“It’s not like I even identify as bisexual since I’ve never really been attracted to another man…”

“Yeah and that’s what makes him paranoid, I guess,” Charlie considered his awed expression and sighed because as an outsider, she was observant of many things he could never witness first-hand. “Don’t get me wrong, okay? I’m not saying that he’s right about what he thinks. But I kind of understand how he feels being in love with someone like you. You’re…freaking…sensational in looks and chicks stare at you when we hang out. You’ve got the whole million dollar looks vibe going and maybe that’s what scares him. Because he knows that you’ve been with girls before. He knows that you’re attracted to them and it just makes him worry that you’re going to leave him for someone else.”

“But I’m not,” Dean felt like even _she_ believed he would and perhaps a general sense of becoming defensive was prevalent because of the recent events. “And what about him, huh? Shouldn’t I be worried too?”

“I think both of you should stop being so hormonal and screw each other’s brains out every chance you get,” Charlie turned up the first two cards and tried to memorize their places. “Sex kind of gets rid of the paranoia. I told you before that his zodiac sign makes him crave sex and if you can’t feed the kitten, what does the kitten do?” their eyes meet and she actually smiled innocently, “it strays and becomes feral. I mean, look at him. Just _look._ ” She glanced back and Dean followed reluctantly. “He’s been digging away at other people’s money problems and all he probably needs is to lie back and be dominated in bed.”

To Dean though, Castiel just appeared fatigued and tired, and maybe he was craving intimacy but the two of them weren’t teenagers. Although recently, _he_ was beginning to believe that his sex drive, after turning it on, was going to climb up to overdrive. “Didn’t get that vibe from him though…”

“You don’t have to get the vibe, Dean,” Charlie implored understanding, “you’re his boyfriend. You’re supposed to reach him wherever he is and show him that he’s worth it. You need to bombard him with all of _you_. Get in his space and claim him. Make him know for sure that you’re completely into him and you’d never want anything else. You know, what sucks about this whole thing is the fact that you’re both newbies. I mean, if one of you was experienced enough then you’d know exactly what to do. Take me and Dorothy for example. She’s the one who comes after me persistently because she knows what it’s like being with a girl and she understands my needs.”

“Cas told me two times that a relationship does not revolve around sex,” Dean turned up two matching cards and collected them. “He basically said it today, even after I asked him if the reason why he’s been so distant with me is because I fucked up when we made out.”

Charlie sighed in return and considered the trio by the fireplace as John rose up and poked the logs that crackled. “That’s like a cry for help. It means he hasn’t been shown a good time by anyone and that’s why it seems like it’s not a big deal. Anyway, apart from that, I also think that the reason why he’s worrying so much is because he honestly thinks less of himself and more of you. I’ve seen it from the first time I met him and listened to how he talks about you. Cas literally worships you, Dean. He’s like your number one fan and he doesn’t think he’s good enough.”

“That’s just…no way,” Dean shook his head and turned up two matching cards again and this time, Charlie huffed out an impatient sigh. “I don’t buy that at all. It’s the other way around. What the hell is there to worship about _me_? I’m just basic.”

“To him, you aren’t.” She became so competitive all of a sudden, that she cheated with two tries and he allowed her because the game was merely supposed to be fun and distracting. “You’ve always been his favorite person. What else happened apart from that though?”

“It all happened so fast and so painful that I can’t remember most, except how I felt through it all,” he suddenly recalled the yellow uniform and his heart ached. “So, this waitress began to hit on me and I had to make it known that I’m taken already.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charlie advanced in the game with five matching pairs whilst Dean only maintained two.

“I just stupidly thought that instead of staring at my face the whole time she was flirting with me, that maybe he would step in and say something about it, you know?”

“Dean, he’s a forty-five-year-old dude. He’s not young like us and those things probably don’t even seem like a big deal to him. I bet that he was just observing how you’d handle the situation, and it falls into what I was saying earlier,” she growled when Dean turned up two matching pairs in succession. “Cas is so _not_ believing that he’s lucky enough to have you for the long haul. He thinks that you’re just doing this to make him feel happy and maybe it’s a phase.”

It could never be a phase when he cried his eyes out and changed every single day to adapt to their relationship. And wasn’t it supposed to be easy after they came together as a couple? Apparently not because they seemed to have many things to work through and according to Charlie, Dean needed to upgrade his display of affection in order to prove how worthy Castiel was to him. If not, then the older man would continue to believe that he was merely sailing through the motions. And perhaps he was missing one important detail all along.

Castiel was probably as needy as he was, always the _smol adorably soft_ angel who craved hugs and love and kisses for many years. Sure, he would resemble a composed and sophisticated man who revealed no weaknesses to the world on his demeanor. But possibly deep down inside, he was as clingy and desperate for affections as Dean was. The two of them just needed to climb the barbed fence and reach each other on the same side.

Suddenly, the soft sounds of Dolly Parton’s ‘I Will Always Love You’ filled the living room and after the two young people craned their necks, they highlighted Ellen tuning the radio that rested on her lap. John was beaming at the old piece of blue that consisted of a tape deck and used to be Sam’s companion many years ago. And as the time crawled to eight o’clock, the snowstorm landed with a howling wind and after glancing at the clock, Dean realized that unlike the prior two nights, Castiel had overstayed by an hour.

“I guess I’m just being a baby about the whole thing,” he confessed to Charlie and resumed the game. “You’re right. I’m acting like a hormonal teenager.”

“All of your feelings,” she rested a hand upon his right arm reassuringly, “are totally valid. There’s nothing wrong with you, Dean. Once you feel something, there’s a reason why. All I’m saying is that maybe you should step out of your comfort zone and wow Cas. Do the things he would least expect and show him that you’re really husband material, you know? Like…okay,” she tucked a few strands of red hair behind an ear and inhaled deeply, studying the swirling snow outside the window, “think of this as him being some rich King and you’re one of the suitors who needs to make him believe that you’re good enough to marry.”

“I’m not the one complaining about anything. He’s the one who thinks _I’ll_ wander off, remember? Maybe _he_ should be the one doing all the extra things.”

“He’s done it for years, hasn’t he?” Their eyes met and Dean softened from the truth, feeling ashamed of himself for forgetting such a thing. “He’s been in love with you longer than you’ve even realized your feelings for him. Don’t you think that he deserves to be swept off his feet for a change? The dude’s probably experiencing a midlife crisis because of you.”

“We literally made out two days ago and I kissed him this morning…”

“Don’t use a measuring stick!” Charlie stared back in amazement. “Just aim to overwhelm instead of developing a routine. Before you know it, you’ll become a boring couple who can’t find anything to be excited about. So, make things spicy.”

“Fine,” pushing himself up and disturbing the neatly lined cards, Dean inhaled deeply and cast her a look of confidence. “Beginning now, I’m going to prove him wrong.” And removing himself from the table with Charlie staring wide-eyed, he boldly approached the middle of the room where the trio was gathered by the fire.

When Castiel highlighted his approach, those blue eyes lifted,displayed an abundance of surprise and the conversation died down immediately as Ellen studied the pair and John held his breath. In fact, if Dean could really and truly be honest about his feelings in that moment, he would admit that he was nervous and still shaken by their earlier argument. He couldn’t believe that Castiel would imagine him running into the arms of someone else. But when Charlie elaborated on what the underlying factors could be, he gathered a better understanding of all the things he was ignoring.

“Cas,” he said as the music flowed into _I want to be your man_ by Zapp and Roger. They gazed at each other with a hint of uncertainty as if tasting the bitterness from earlier and fearing that it could be prolonged. “Dance with me?” Extending his right hand, Dean tried a small smile.

Immediately Charlie swooned in her seat by the table and becoming completely wowed, her cheeks colored enough to warm her heart. Ellen followed shortly with a soft impressed look, glancing at John who considered her instantly with a look of amazement. But none of them could measure up to Castiel’s reaction, utterly stunned to a point where his eyes filled with tears. His chest heaved uncontrollably as well, and although decked out in a black tailored pants suit, his demeanor registered anything but a composed financial accountant. Instead, he melted, lips parting and reaching for Dean’s hand and entwining their fingers, the older man slowly rose up.

Without another word between them but the wild beating of their hearts, they approached the space between their special place by the window and the chair where Ellen was seated with John. And because Dean understood that he would cry if their gaze prolonged, he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck and accepted defeat. Burying his face into the warm nape of the older man’s right shoulder, he closed his eyes and drowned in the familiar scent of a cologne that would always be treasured by him. The subtle hints of apple mixed with bergamot and the underlying tones of vanilla and jasmine were small details that meant the world to Dean.

Castiel was so warm against him, wounding his arms around his waist and drawing shaky breaths that revealed how vulnerable he was. His absence of speech for the entire time the younger man was downstairs proved to be enough evidence that he too was broken by their earlier meeting. The bruise formed between them was real and hurtful and silence after they last parted was something that needed to be filled with anything but words. Words were never sufficient anymore but actions were, actions that comprised of Dean resting his parted lips on the older man’s neck just below his right ear and kissing softly. Or the way Castiel’s fingertips pressed into his back and brought them so close together but still it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough anymore after what happened inside the pool.

Dean was swimming in bliss from savoring every inch between them and quickly the passion blossomed, developing like a warmth gathering fire inside of his gut and causing him to become uncomfortably hard in his pants. But he wasn’t alone because from what he could feel, Castiel was fully awakened too and straining through the smooth black fabric and because Dean was far too intoxicated by his desire and wanted the older man every second since he last made love to him, he moaned softly into Castiel’s neck and gingerly nuzzled his face into the few toe-curling scents.

Just like that they remained whilst swaying to Zapp and Roger’s song, until the sounds of Spandau Ballet’s _True_ began and somewhere inside of Dean, the need arose to taste Castiel’s lips despite the prying loving gazes by the three other people in the room. He braved it with an audience, brushing their cheeks together first and then fitting their mouths into a kiss that happened softly at first, so soft that Dean was the one who trembled in the older man’s grasp. Leaning in to the connection, he maintained the meeting of their lips and felt once again like there was no separation between them.

When he kissed Castiel, he understood why there were so many books fueled by romances and endless lines of poetry too beautiful for many people to relate to. It’s because some persons would never be lucky enough to feel exactly what he felt when they kissed each other. It was like sinking his entire body into a warm, bubbling stream whilst the sunshine smiled just before midday. And after resting their foreheads together and glancing at Charlie, Dean admired her cupped chin, elbow resting on the table and a look of absolute adoration. But he could never thank her enough for her kind words which could be brutally honest most times but served as inspiration for his actions. If she wasn’t there to entertain a pep talk then he feared that he would have passed the evening sulking in a corner.

Now though, after the song ended and the two of them decided to separate reluctantly, the conversation was occurring full force in front of the fire and Dean wondered if his father and Ellen even witnessed the kiss at all. Maybe they didn’t because Castiel’s back was facing their direction and their faces were too close most of the time to reveal as much. Although Charlie received a front seat view of the entire thing and couldn’t stop gazing.

But as he and Castiel settled around the table, the silence still remained and it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore despite Dean trying effortlessly to relax the way he was reacting inside of his pants. Instead, the game resumed and the three of them passed the rest of the hour competing for the most matches.

Charlie won in the end and it was only after John rose up and considered the whipping storm outside that he roused the room’s attention. After all of them took turns peering through the curtains, the bitter weather and additional inches of snow decided for the guests that they would have to remain there for the night. And maybe it was fate, Dean thought. Maybe bringing them together in such a way was supposed to happen in order to remedy the disturbance during a winter storm so he became thankful for the opportunity. In fact, he reveled in anticipation unlike the prior occasion when it was decided without a doubt that Castiel would stay the night in his room.

Ellen took Charlie under her wing and John retired to bed without even considering that his son and his boyfriend would be sleeping together. In all honesty, it appeared as if John was very satisfied with the pairing and would never voice his complaints in any situation. Therefore, after the older woman pulled her sidekick out of the room, she left Dean and Castiel lingering on the landing upstairs outside of the younger man’s room.

Blue eyes gazed back and searched green ones, as if asking so many questions at once.

Was it alright for him this time? Would he be a burden? Would Dean prefer his own space? All of these questions Castiel asked silently and received the most surprising answer.

When his hand was taken and he was tugged into the younger man’s bedroom, he kept their fingers entwined as Dean gazed longingly at him. There were no speeches, nothing said out loud between the two of them but the undying desire growing and chasing away the cold that seeped into the room.

It was so overwhelming that when Castiel released the younger man’s hand to slip out of his jacket, Dean reached out and helped him. His hands lingered on the older man’s shoulders though, fingers curling into Castiel’s bulging arms and just when he thought that they would rush into kissing again, Ellen knocked on the door.

Heart racing like an express train, Dean stepped away quickly from the intense circle of passion and nervously scratched his forehead. Then when the two women peeped in with mischief brewing inside their eyes, Castiel escaped into the small washroom to wash his face and hands.

Whilst he was in there though, Charlie wandered over, and in the process of helping Ellen and Dean fix the bed, she giggled like a little girl about to attempt something quite silly. And both Dean and the older woman paused what they were doing to consider her beaming back at them.

“Can you be more obvious?” he whispered, glancing at the washroom where the sound of the rushing water was still evident.

Charlie shrugged, bubbled over with laughter again and surprisingly, Ellen joined in too and both of them entertained their good humor amidst a scowling Dean who wandered to the window and stared outside. It was so long ago that he couldn’t really recall the teasing when he was in a relationship, but this time felt much more capable of reducing him to a blushing heap of mush. And because their reactions to the whole process of fixing the bed contained so much evidence of their thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel completely nervous.

For a while since they first kissed, Dean fantasized about Castiel coming into his room and then helping him out of his shirt. From there, they usually started necking each other until the older man climbed on top and dominated what he absolutely believed to be his lover. _His_ significant other and soul mate. But in his dreams, the senses weren’t heightened because none of what happened was real. So, Dean always prolonged the moment inside of his head until he was too hard and forced to do something about it. Most times though, his hands were never enough, and he would be left with a dull ache that remained like an uncomfortable cramp throughout the day.

Now, as the two women departed the room and Castiel wandered out from the washroom smelling faintly of rosemary from Dean’s soap near the sink, he discovered just like before that the younger man was buried under the covers with a copy of Middlemarch completely obscuring his face. This time though, after considering the thick red sweater folded neatly at the foot of the bed and the comfortable pair of slacks, Castiel unbuttoned his shirt in the room and never diverted his eyes from Dean. Gradually, the younger man lowered the book out of curiosity and when he was presented with the finely sculpted torso and arms, he quickly blocked his vision again.

Castiel though, was very much eager to prolong the torture but the room was too cold to stand around unclothed and quickly slipping on Dean’s sweater, he followed with the slacks and draped his shirt and pants neatly over the back of the chair. His countenance registered a contented expression, one which wasn’t missed at all by the younger man whose face was flushed behind his book. And of course, the absence of words was becoming too heavy between them, so heavy that coupled with the cold storm outside, the bite was deep and penetrating their chests.

The torment reached a point where just after Castiel slipped under the blanket, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard because he couldn’t chase away how much he desired the older man. He couldn’t survive the distance between them for an entire night and after weakly closing the book and resting it on the bedside table, he decided that some kind of conversation needed to happen.

“Do you want socks?” he asked softly, his voice cracking too much. “Your feet too cold?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel croaked, adjusting the blanket around his waist and sighing, “thank you.”

“Cool,” Dean swallowed and tried to search for something else to say but he was indeed backed into a corner. And very much overwhelmed still, after their dance and the feel of their bodies reacting to each other. “Good night then…” he suddenly heard himself saying, reaching for the lamp next to him, Dean turned it off and left them with the soft glow of the hall light through the slices of space between the roof and walls and the warm yellow from the lamppost outside his window.

Within the span of a minute though, the soft kisses began on his neck, warm breath covering his skin and then Dean’s toes curled under the sheets. And maybe he wasn’t expecting the older man to make the advances but he most confidently did by closing the distance between them and wounding an arm around Dean’s waist under the blanket.

His fingertips warmed after delving under the younger man’s shirt, and by that time, Dean was far too breathless to even consider the change. What he was conscious of though, was that Castiel’s hand slipped very fast into the front of his soft pants, and immediately he was touching him for the first time down there.

The feel of real hands that replaced ghosted ones in his dreams was surreal in the first few minutes, and by the time their lips crushed together, Dean was far gone. He sunk into a wonderful warmth of bliss and pleasure unlike anything he ever experienced. He opened up and melted like butter as Castiel slowly learned what kind of pace he favored and built up a faster one. And even though he could never understand how the older man knew just what to do, warm fingers wrapped around the tip of his cock and continued to squeeze then slacken in a slow, torturing rhythm.

It was something too beautiful to muffle his soft moans, on his back squirming, legs sprawling open, heels digging into the sheets and when Castiel leaned over him just enough to capture their lips into a deep, searching kiss once again, Dean groaned into the other man’s mouth from his nearing climax. It was happening so fast unlike his prolonged dreams, and he could feel how the wave was coming, building up as it approached the shore and ready to drown him underneath.

There was no room for wondering whether he was inadequate or undeserving but the only thing certain between them was his grip on Castiel’s left shoulder whilst his other hand drove fingers through disheveled hair. Their breaths, warm and quick, intermingled and blindly, Dean searched lower until he pawed the front of the older man’s pants. He wanted to touch him, wanted to feel that part of Castiel inside his hand again and become reassured that he was privileged to do all of it. And even though it was a challenge to build the older man up to the same crescendo, he resorted to the learned weakness Castiel fell prey to by rubbing his thumb repeatedly and deeply over the tip of his lover’s already leaking cock.

Castiel mewled into Dean’s mouth, whimpering afterwards as his pace slackened and after composure was gained again, he picked up the rhythm that was quickened to match their heavy breathing and heaving chests. Quite expectedly, just before Dean came hard, he would have filled the silence with his hoarse cries if Castiel didn’t muffle the sound with a deep kiss. Throughout every jerk of his hips as he spilled himself between them, Dean’s mind exploded as he highlighted stars lazily dancing on the ceiling. And because Castiel kept jerking him off throughout his releases, he kept coming again and again until they were both convulsing in each other’s arms.

They were trying so hard to muffle the sounds making love to each other produced but perhaps someone passing in the hall would catch on. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen for the time being. Truthfully, neither of them cared enough anyway about eavesdroppers.

Throughout their climax, Castiel bit Dean’s bottom lip and pulled, falling into their slow kiss almost immediately as he became breathless and weak, so weak from going over the edge harder every time. He was needy and vulnerable and so soft that his blue eyes mellowed from tears. And because Dean was fueled by a generous amount of pent up emotions from the day’s events, he reversed their positions, pushing Castiel into the bed and swinging a thigh over the older man’s hips. Knowing that whatever he was about to do was new and unexpected but he worked his face down Castiel’s heaving chest still covered by the soft red sweater and eventually, he was tugging the pair of slacks lower. Barely registering that the older man’s boxers couldn’t even contain him fully, he freed him anyway and marveled over the extra inches in comparison.

“Dean,” Castiel’s tone was quick and urgent, arching his hips and gingerly biting his lips after soft kisses covered his shaft.

He couldn’t believe how mind-blowing it was to feel another man’s tongue cleaning him up until Dean taught him that the act could be blissful. Until he was kissed so tenderly as if every inch of his body was a gift to green eyes and he was treasured, the revelation softening Castiel until he cried from becoming so overwhelmed. He could feel how much he was loved, how much the younger man patiently wished to explore him without holding back, through it all, through the slow kisses along the inside of his thighs.

Over and over again, Dean wowed himself by taking control, by delving into a territory that he never before dared to go and enjoying every second of feeling Castiel unwind under him. And when he finally took the older man into his mouth, as Castiel arched off the bed, he swallowed as much as he could in inches. He collected hips that would not stay flattened on the bed and pushed the other man down, then settling comfortably between thighs that were toned and bent at the knees, Dean began to slowly suck the head of Castiel’s cock. He kept using his tongue as an added effect, circling it over and over again until the older man exploded in his mouth and unearthed a loud, sinful moan that stretched out for three seconds.

Within those seconds though, Dean came inside his pants and was forced to swallow Castiel whole again as the older man covered his mouth to muffle a hoarse cry. Writhing underneath, he drove pathways with his fingers through Dean’s hair, toes pointing into the sheet and bringing himself to a climax too times too many until he was weak and dizzied enough to offer a pleading look. From that signal alone to stop though, the younger man continued jerking Castiel off between his fingers until the bed creaked from their movements and hands reached for him desperately.

Dean was marveled by the opening up of the other man's body, how he stared up at the ceiling, lips parted and simply embraced defeat. How he clawed at the sheets and balled his fists into it. How he prepared himself for what he may never have experienced before and embraced the build up anyway and because he was so lost in his body’s reaction, he couldn’t even breathe.

Choking on a sob, eyes widening and stiffening, the older man spilled in between Dean’s fingers, coming so hard that he blindly felt for the pillow above his head and after squeezing the softness, Castiel revealed a long, throaty cry. “Fuck,” he whispered as he was cleaned up like the most delicious meal ever tasted by the younger man. He arched his back one more time before settling down on the sheet again, the sweater clinging to his sweat soaked skin and drained himself unlike any other time. “Dean," Castiel managed weakly before warm lips complied tenderly and fingers raked through his hair slowly, even as the world grew colder outside, the heat between them never died away.

“I’m right here,” the younger man captured tear stained cheeks between his palms and flatted himself on top of his lover. His soul mate. The one person who proved to him that love had no boundaries. He pressed a kiss onto Castiel’s mouth and rested their foreheads together, knowing that what they managed to do prior was something that would remain inside their minds until they were hungry to taste all of it again. And it was beautiful, making love to a man, knowing that there were so many areas to explore, areas that Dean understood he would never be able to experience with a woman, and the pleasure was so different and so intense.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean who sprawled his legs out so that they could comfortably hug each other for a long time after. Whilst their breaths died down and their heartrates slackened, their cheeks nuzzled together. They were so in love with each other that they couldn’t even stop the caresses, couldn’t even allow an inch between their faces and their bodies. Dean couldn’t even stop kissing Castiel all over his neck, tugging the red sweater aside to reveal more inches that he could explore and biting down softly until the older man moaned beneath him.

Fingers raked up his back, then entered his hair and because Dean was very much awakened from what felt like a long slumber, he just couldn’t stop. He tilted Castiel’s neck sideways and tasted him, grazing his teeth all the way from the older man’s jawline to his right shoulder until he decided to claim him. He wanted to leave marks, to search for them afterwards and revel in the dominance. And biting down again and sucking, Dean unearthed a hoarse cry from Castiel who writhed under him until their cocks were rubbing together inside their pants. Even then though, it seemed as if love making was an art to be prolonged and learned because they slowly began to build up a rhythm, grinding their hips together slowly as Dean imagined that he was inside Castiel and riding him.

All of it was so sensual and pleasurable, so mind-blowing that when he sat up and raked his fingertips up Castiel’s heaving chest, he continued to move on top of him as he savored the toned expanse of the older man’s body. Thighs squeezing Castiel’s hips in place, Dean gingerly bit his lips and savored the bed creaking and swaying under them.

Their eyes locked, blue ones widening as green orbs revealed so much passion that Castiel couldn’t conceal his awe. He was completely becoming convinced that there was so much he never knew about Dean, _this_ side, for instance. Where Dean was riding on immense pleasure that originated from deep down inside of him and obviously fueled by his love that seemed to be overflowing. Where Dean latched onto whatever was unfolding in his mind and after throwing his head back, he let out a throaty cry from coming hard again.

His body folded over Castiel’s, who held him tenderly through every single release and even though Dean was panting for air, he still kept moving. He still wanted more, so much more that would take him into a place where his mind would tilt over and rearrange itself, where his body would change and drain itself of all the hurt and pain from suffering through so many years of disappointments and heartbreaks.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was so hoarse after he considered the demise of the younger man’s countenance. “Oh, my love,” he said softly when warm tears covered his skin as Dean cried into his neck and raking his fingers through sweat soaked hair, he just held him tenderly.

Sobs that shook him entirely, his chest heaving from believing that he wasn't deserving to be fought for, that he could be thought of as a wild card, as someone who would slip away and latch onto the next best thrill. That he was inadequate and young and deemed as reckless. Dean weakly pushed himself up, the heels of his palms digging into the pillow and he rolled his hips upwards as Castiel considered him with a completely wounded expression. Then despite their conflicting emotions about the moment that occurred earlier, they were gradually taught that physical needs could become quite intoxicating and distracting enough to chase away the doubts.

Dean thumbed the older man's lips roughly whilst blinking through his tears, his other hand seeking out Castiel's cock until he was grinding on top of them both contained between his fingers. Even then he couldn't stop gazing into pools of blue that became listless, lips that sucked his thumb and hips that rolled upwards. And the most blissful moment of it all was when they both came harder together, so quickly it blinded them both.

When Dean was certain that no energy remained between them, he weakly untangled himself. Castiel’s eyes were glued to him though, searching for the answers and knowing that somewhere behind those green eyes, traces of hurt from earlier still resided. Whenever Dean cried, Castiel noticed that the shards of the younger man’s broken heart crumbled further, and it was harder to reach him afterwards. It was always harder to make him understand that what he was, as broken as he was, that he could be loved until he healed. And maybe that was the most tragic part of it all because when other people were the ones responsible for hurting Dean, now Castiel realized that he was a contributing party.

Dean though, wasn’t exactly considering any of this as he pawed around in his wardrobe, because his mind was far, far away. He wanted to bleed because the pain forced him to feel something unlike the discomfort of losing the man he loved. He wanted to feel things differently, even for the first time, to worship their bond because it was a miracle, to come together again and explore until they breached boundaries. All of a sudden his thoughts were so wild that he moved towards the bathroom and flipped on the light before staring at himself in the mirror.

Wide eyed, flushed and dazed, the places where Castiel touched him were marked dully red, but evident and when he tried to rest his fingers onto the front of his pants, Dean moaned from how sensitive he had become. It's like he wanted to be released over and over again, his body wished for that more than anything else but he couldn't overspend their lovemaking. They would burn out too fast and die too soon and then Castiel might be given even more reason to be doubtful about their bond.

"Dean?" came the hoarse quality of a voice which may never escape his memory for as long as he lived. "Where are you? I need you," then… "please," with a sense of pleading as if the world was about to end.

Without a response, he collected himself off the bathroom floor, raked his fingers through sweat soaked hair and entered the room once more. From there, Dean sought out the bunched up sheet that they used to clean themselves with and he tossed it into the basket that would be upturned into the washer the next day. All the while though, blue eyes were latched onto him, every single movement he made, from the basket to the dresser to collect his phone before switching it to silent. From the dresser to the window to pull the curtains closer together then towards the bed where once he collected the top of the blanket, Castiel was reaching for him already.

"Can we talk?"

Dean felt his throat burning and he tried to settle into a comfortable spot on the bed, but his torso was claimed, comforting arms reaching around and pulling him in… "Not now. I'm tired."

"I don’t want us to fall asleep with unsettled business between us," Castiel croaked, his cupped fingers caressing the other man's jawline tenderly. "Let's make that a rule, that we must never sleep without mending whatever becomes broken—"

Dean stifled a yawn and stared up at the ceiling because he was trying so hard to fight the tears. "Nothing's broken between us. You just don't think that I'm in this completely. So I'm just going to have to prove you wrong and maybe I don’t want to talk about it, Cas," Dean said softly as a tear rolled out anyway and was visible. "Maybe I just want to stop crying right now because every single time you look at me, I keep feeling like I'm that wide eyed kid all over again who will never be as perfect as you. And no matter how hard I try, I'm always going to ruin every damn thing I touch, lose every damn person I love and come out of this alone and cold and damaged."

"Dean…" Castiel pleaded, "this is not what I was trying to say to you."

"Then maybe you should think things through before you say them out loud, especially to me," the younger man croaked, his chest heaving, "because I'm not just your best friend anymore, dammit. I'm the guy who is desperately falling in love with you, who doesn't have any idea how this is happening so fast, who doesn't even feel like he's going to do this right. I'm _that_ guy who would take you out and show you off, who is so damn proud that you're mine. I'm the guy," Dean's face contorted as he gave in to tears when their eyes met, "who loves you more than he loves himself because when I love you…when I feel myself loving you, every single part of me, I feel damn good about myself. And if you keep doubting that, if you keep thinking that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life with you then I don't know what the rest of my life will look like without you in it."

Castiel's eyes leaked tears so abundantly that he couldn't even smile fully and as his lips quivered, his hands sought out their fingers entwining. "Oh, Dean…"

"Goodnight," and rolling into the older man, Dean buried his face into his lover's chest whilst he tried to drown in the welcoming scents that reminded him so much of home.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to update, but with Christmas came distractions especially at work since I'm in retail. And also there was a hater on this story who blasted me about the struggles in Dean and Cas relationship being too 'immature' and 'ridiculous'. I can't please everyone but the comments which I deleted delayed me severely because I wrote this chapter along with the one before it from personal experiences and for someone to label what I went through as ridiculous made me feel completely worthless and sad. Anyway, sorry about lamenting, please enjoy the chapter.

**Excerpt:**

_John rested his beer on the table and studied Ellen's face, "we spend all this time fighting and pushing each other away, believing someday someone will come in and wreck our relationship. And all this time we could be having the best moments of our damn life. We don't know what the future has for us. Hell, we shouldn't be predicting the damn future but living in the present. And we're always so busy wasting time worrying about these damn insignificant things that we miss out on a living a good life."_

* * *

The next morning when Dean emerged from a deep, beautiful sleep, he guiltily reach for the other side of his rumpled bed which was vacant and still warm.

Those few seconds were brutal though, filled with the creation of doubts that after they made love for the second time, Castiel decided to leave him. This time, Dean would have died inside, unable to recover from the actuality of being less important and possibly discovered as too needy. However, his fears lasted only momentarily when the sound of the cascading water from the shower reached his ears like music from the bathroom.

Scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, he rose up and faintly latched onto the new scents hugging his sheets and pillowcases. The overwhelming feeling of coming over and over again was enough to weaken his mind until he could still smell him on his soft bed and inside his mind. The faint sweat and apples, vanilla and bergamot and he could still hear Castiel’s hoarse cries as he reached for him. What he felt like; so soft and hard at the same time, finely toned as the muscles in his arms and thighs tightened just before he opened up and released himself.

All of those things were imprinted in Dean’s mind when he climbed off the bed and blindly stumbled through the cold room, plugging in the heater just near the window and trying to thaw off his toes. He was weak still, mushy and unraveled enough to understand that home could be present in someone else’s arms. Home was always where Castiel could be, where his arms were and his kisses and his smell.

Dean could cling to those scents forever and because he was craving the older man like a drug whilst still awakening from sleep, he began to peel off his clothes in a haste. In that moment, he understood what loving someone mentally and physically felt like, why Charlie lamented on latching onto sex and dipping yourself fully into it consistently. He was intoxicated by Castiel, so in love with him that after entering the bathroom naked, Dean boldly parted the plastic curtain that crackled and he presented himself.

At first, Castiel was unaware of his space being intruded because he was facing away from the younger man and savoring the gush of water onto his face. The angel wings fanned across his shoulders, the dark ink finely lining feathers that appeared so real and for the first time, Dean was able to really study the details. The artist's expertise by presenting an expansive creation which spread downwards and ended just above Castiel's firmly shaped ass. It must have taken quite a long time to complete the entire thing, and it was possibly the best work he had ever seen. All of this scrutiny was done within an entire minute, whilst the seconds ticked by and lust consumed him in a tight bubble.

After the cold whisper of the curtain reached his ear, the older man quickly turned around and stared into green eyes that were wide and electric. But searching them was only done for a few seconds, because the contours of Dean’s body were far too tempting to explore and so those blue orbs roamed all the way down to where he immediately longed to touch.

Gifted, Dean would have proclaimed decisively, gloriously in inches and equally beautiful. Castiel was bare and spectacular under the spray of water, the water cascading down his honey colored skin that was toned and stretched over muscles on his torso. His arms bulged, just as his thighs and even though Dean's gaze lingered a little too long on the older man's cock, he became breathless and bold.

He wanted to touch Castiel tenderly, to run his fingertips over the smooth and beautiful contours of his body and embrace the fact that he was in love, completely in love with another man's physique. Absolutely awed by what he could now witness before him, when deprived of the trench coat, when his sense of feeling in the pool was now filled with clarity of seeing. Realizing that Castiel's cock was something that magnified Dean's interests and captured him in a sense of amazement when he was given the opportunity to study those inches. And his intentions were so obvious that the younger man smiled softly before closing the distance between them.

From the moment he stepped into the small space though, Castiel, rooted to the spot as the water cascaded on his body, gasped softly from anticipation rising up inside his chest. And when he was so certain that Dean desired exactly what he wished for, he crushed their lips together and moaned into the wet and warm kiss that weakened his knees.

Even though they were both melting, they steadied themselves under the warm spray of water, just enough to search each other’s mouths with their tongues. Every connection thus far whilst kissing seemed to take them into another level of depth. And every single time Dean moaned, Castiel was unhinged bit by bit, until he finally wound his arms around the younger man’s waist and pulled him in.

They came together completely this time without clothes, and the heat was flaring inside their guts, building up like a wave of lava and forcing Dean to back the older man into the soft blue tiled walls. But because he was simply overwhelmed from being dominated several times in a row, Castiel swung them around until Dean was sandwiched between his heaving chest and the wall. Slowly, he rolled their hips together, until the younger man was staring at him, breathless and lips parted and when the actuality of being so intimate with each other rose like a wave inside of their chests, both of them stared as their lips kept dancing closer.

The energy between them was never-ending, it seemed, electric couldn’t even describe what it was like when they fitted together so perfectly that Dean threw his head back and could only gaze in awe at the older man’s dark blue orbs that reminded him of a storm, so beautiful and so real. Castiel was willing to expose himself so much that even the tears that came forth were of a pure and innocent nature and the younger man wanted to shelter him, despite the many years spent in doubt and fear and a loss of hope.

He didn’t believe that he contained anything else inside of him after being well-spent the night before, but Dean was so wrong when he grew harder and Castiel’s fingers wrapped around him smoothly without breaking eye contact. He was aching, like a fever under his skin when touched, when he could feel someone else pressed against him and realize how blissful intimacy was. And because the older man was so ravished by his own kind of passion, he couldn’t stop either.

From there, the real torment begun when Dean was maneuvered around and his cheek pressed into the tiled wall. His chest was heaving uncontrollably, flattened against the soft blue surface, a color he grew accustomed to over the years but was very prominent in front of his eyes suddenly. He couldn’t see him, couldn’t determine what the older man’s countenance appeared like, whether he was losing himself even more. But one thing was for certain; Castiel wasn’t going to embrace defeat any time soon. And still maintaining a grip on the younger man’s cock, he slotted himself between Dean’s ass and rolled his hips forward until the world around them disappeared.

Just the actuality of knowing that they were _so_ close, that all Castiel just needed to do was align himself in order to break that special barrier between them; it was enough to drive Dean crazy. He couldn’t breathe when he felt what it was like, hanging on the precipice whilst he was slowly jerked off and couldn’t do anything with his hands. He was left to flatten his palms on the wall as water rained down on them and even though weakened knees buckled, the soft bites along the nape of his neck steadied him, rooted him in the moment.

The way Castiel prevented himself from claiming what he must have longed for more than anything in that moment, pelted him off the edge so forcefully at first. He came between Dean’s ass and the shower washed away his release, burying his face into wet, dark blonde hair, he rubbed his cheek onto the soft tendrils and savored the sweet, glorifying moment.

Dean wanted it. He wanted to know what it felt like at least to be on the receiving end and so he pushed back until he could feel him, barely there and lubricated by the water and leaking and still Castiel would not comply. He stayed where he was, lingering and panting until he couldn’t tolerate the torture anymore and turning Dean around, he crushed their lips together into a deep and long kiss again as if the world was ending and they were pressed for time.

In the process of tasting each other’s souls, Castiel captured the younger man’s thighs into his grasp and hoisted him up, then he rolled their hips together until Dean broke apart from the kiss and hoarsely moaned through parted lips. Staring, and trying to search blue eyes, Dean could only gather his arms around the older man’s neck when he was captured in that position. He gave in completely when they moved, their cocks slotted together and growing harder and just when he could feel himself hanging on the edge, Dean tightened his legs around Castiel’s waist. And he could feel his body unravelling in ways he never thought possible when their lips brushed.

Dean experienced so many things in those moments that he could have never imagined, warm waves of pleasure rippling through his limbs and skyrocketing his heart until he could no longer breathe. He could only gaze into blue eyes and gave in, defeated and flailing and weakened. His body was not his own anymore but released to the sensations of lovemaking that were far too new and mind blowing for Dean that he trembled from their bodies grinding together in a quickening rhythm. Burying his face into Castiel's neck and muffling his moans that grew heavier as they both neared a blinding climax, Dean allowed the world around him to melt away and he embraced love in all its entirety.

“Fuck!” came the one word that would never drift from the older man’s parted lips in public, and he came hard between them, followed closely by Dean who gasped and stared back in amazement from the feeling of letting go all over again.

Even when they untangled themselves afterwards though, Castiel was still trying to kiss the breath out of him. The soft scrub lathered with soap wildly rubbed the younger man’s back and biceps as he sought out his intoxicating drug and kissed Dean so deeply until his mind flipped over. And after steadying Castiel's shoulders and pulling back a little, he searched blue ones until he discovered the truth, what he was suspicious of since the night prior.

When he highlighted the warm pools that contained so much need inside, he understood in that moment that both of them were the same in many ways. Both of them needed love constantly, to a point where they couldn’t stay away from each other and maybe it was dangerous to feed off of that longing. Maybe it was also fantastic to allow the ecstasy to roll them under its waves but it was so blissful to finally realize how much he was mirrored in someone he loved endlessly. And Dean savored it, resting their foreheads together whilst Castiel lathered him up and the world resumed around them.

Thus far though, the absence of conversation was hanging between them, because they were speaking in volumes through their love making. But the argument loomed in the past, growing further and further away and still lacing their minds with uneasiness, never from doubts though. Those doubts were disappearing between their kisses and small smiles ghosted on their lips and when Dean stepped into the bedroom once more that grew warmer from the heater, he dug into his drawer and pulled out another long sleeved sweater in a beautiful sea green shade. Coupled with that, he tugged out a pair of thick wool pants and Castiel’s appreciative smile only suggested that he was more than contented.

The storm raged on outside though, everyone fearing that they would be snowed in until Christmas which was less than two days away and the world outside was buried beneath inches of snow with the passing hours. The sun was hidden behind thick gray clouds, a heavy kind of whistling wind surrounding the house every once and a while. And when the two of them finally ventured downstairs, they were confronted with John watching Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and the absence of Charlie and Ellen.

Apparently, they managed to slip out earlier between a pause in the heavy downfall of snow, the Harley’s clear path cutting its way through the yard from the door to the front gate and all the way towards the thickness of white trees. It didn’t surprise Dean that the house was quiet though, because like old times, he and his father remained inside watching Christmas movie marathons during the same kind of storm. The two of them would either drown in warm cups of cocoa whilst Dean wrapped gifts or they would savor two beers and through it all, bonded effortlessly whilst speaking about life and Sam and their little childhood escapades.

Now though, with a plate of French toast between them and seated comfortably on the cushion by the window, Dean leaned into Castiel and experienced the kind of change settling between them that was permanent. It didn’t feel so achy like yesterday when they ventured out into the town to purchase binders and lined pages. The absence was long forgotten and the quarrel easily evaporated that the only thing he clung to was the exactitude of being next to not only his best friend, but also his significant other.

“Dean,” Castiel said softly nudging his right shoulder. “Eat faster,” his voice was hoarse from the night prior, and he pressed a bit of toast onto parted lips as their gaze deepened.

Allowing himself to be fed and realizing that he was possibly being stuffed intentionally, Dean pushed the plate onto the older man’s lap and dabbed at his mouth. “Your turn. Got to replace what fuel you burned out.” He was being treated so lovingly, and the actuality of spending the rest of his life in those kinds of moments really proved to be toe-curling for Dean that he melted inside.

Castiel complied with a sigh, hugging the plate and softly chewing on the remaining breakfast until all of it was devoured and warm coffee sufficed as the next best thing apart from his selected teas in the morning.

“What you think about them agents poking about, Cas?” John tried to initiate a conversation he so desperately craved for without scrutinizing the two lovebirds nesting in the window seat. “Ain’t one of them Dean’s friend from back in the days?”

After he supplied the evident appearance of Lee Webb in town, the younger man collected the plate and cups and he retreated to the kitchen to clean up the wares. Lending an ear seemed to be unavoidable, since his father was always a loud conversationalist, and he oftentimes decided that every single person in the room needed to listen to him. Dean had gotten accustomed to these flaws that settled on his father's character, and he wondered whether he would ever learn to be parted from such a loving person in his life if the situation arose.

“Well…it was expected,” Castiel’s voice was huskier and low as he hugged himself by the window, feeling colder without Dean by his side. “Truthfully, they might not find anything of import, considering that Crowley was an impish character who would have anticipated being caught.”

“Records burnt, that sort of thing,” John grunted and lowered the television just enough so that they could entertain a very intriguing conversation. “What bothers me is all them folks who were unfortunate to get abused by the drugs, the prostitution…”

When all he wished for was to escape into a world where those sordid affairs never existed, he was left to recollect the tragedies that unraveled in Littleton right under their noses. Castiel sighed and shook his head because the injustice was of course understood, that many people who were affected like Balthazar, they would never be compensated for any damages.

“His partnership was well-funded for years and I suspect paperwork would be missing. When he approached my brother for funding, money needed to be passed underhand. There would be no signed documents, but an understanding that whatever was exchanged would be accounted for.”

“Blasted hypocrite, asking for collection at church only to use all of it in his business.”

Their words drifted to Dean in the kitchen, the soapy water covering his hands in suds when he sponged away the cups and saucers. Then turning the faucet on again, his gaze rested outside of the window where through the trees, he actually pinpointed the clearing that served as the space where a picnic happened not so long ago.

What possibly felt like a year in the past, Dean recalled the likes of Hanna and then weakly crying into Ellen’s shoulder. The absolute jealousy he experienced and the unjust immaturity displayed towards Donna. The lack of words between them and the abundance of heated ones; conversations Dean wished never to experience again but it seemed as if they needed to break their walls before becoming so much closer.

The peaks of the White Mountains contrasted with the grey sky like blinding white triangles and after blinking himself back into the moment, he began to rinse the wares one by one.

“Dean, wasn’t Lee that vet’s kid? The one who strapped that goddamn lizard to a home-made rocket?” John asked from the living room, the movie long forgotten as it played out on the television. Chevy Chase was delivering his famous speech about his long promised bonus whilst the entire family gathered around.

“Yeah!” he called back and wiped his hands on a dishtowel that was printed with small tabby kittens, evidently placed there by Ellen who favored cute and adorable things. “Same dude who also liked to mix a bunch of chemicals together to cause explosions.” Dean entered the living room and spied Castiel sitting rigidly upon the window seat still hugging himself.

He loved him like someone who desperately needed to love a soft and precious thing, understanding that the world was a terrible place and the only option available was to protect and shelter. Castiel was anything but broken, but he was in dire need of so much affections, he was reaching out to Dean to love him, to hold him tenderly and just allow him a simple chance. After all, chances were free, weren't they? Chances weren't supposed to be clouded by injustices between them, when they were far too familiar with each other's flaws and beliefs.

“Ain’t that peachy. Bringing in a fed who ain’t local anymore because he’s been away for so many years. What the hell would he know about what happened here in the past ten years? Huh? Seems to me like this whole thing sounds fishy. For all we know, Crowley’s got his hands in many more pies.” John dusted some gingerbread cookie crumbs from his dark blue denim jeans and settled into the couch again.

“Do you believe that he might have influenced the authorities?” Castiel stared back in awe as Dean settled next to him again, “that he may have seduced them onto his side?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him. Look how persuasive he was around us, like a damn devil wearing a religious robe.” John turned around on the chair and considered the two entwining their fingers and softly gazing at each other. When he finally realized what was unfolding, he settled on a very thoughtful decision to seclude the scene. "Damn fire ain't doing no good in here. Do you feel a draft, Cas? A brush of cold around us?" The older man concealed his grin quite successfully, displaying that glint in his eyes which matched Sam's pair many times, and would lead to nothing but playfulness.

Castiel, after blinking away the haze of gazing into green, soft pools, cleared his throat and could not divert his attention on the one person who softened him into a world that he used to fantasize about. "I cannot say that I do…" Because he was absolutely warmed and contented…but then, after realizing that perhaps the pocket of bliss he was nestled into would not be shared by the older man, he understood the discomfort. "In fact, yes, a chill…I do feel _something_ …"

"The curtain. Close it immediately!" John hastened and craned his neck to ensure that his suggestion was complied with. "Do whatever it takes to keep the winter outside. Not _inside_. It's not a friend of ours."

After gingerly biting his lips and trying to prevent himself from laughing at his father's ridiculous outburst and constant fear of the cold causing sickness and weakened immune systems, Dean studied Castiel's face and discovered something quite mesmerizing. Parted lips revealed a desperate need to showcase how breathless the connection of their eyes and their nearness affected the older man. In fact, he wasn't smiling but gazing so intently at Dean that his intentions were clear. And without sparing a second, Dean reached behind him for the edge of the thick red curtain, and he tugged it around them.

They were suddenly sealed away inside a very secretive booth, cushioned on the window seat and with a breathtaking view of the moor that was blurred by the snow drifting down and the darkened sky. With the unbelievable feeling of privacy and romance and intimacy allowed, Dean's chest heaved and so did Castiel's and after reaching out, the former carded his fingers through dark hair and he pulled the older man in.

Gently their lips met at first, like a chaste kiss and then after studying each other's eyes and blinking slowly, they both initiated a deeper connection that was blissful and beautiful. Every single time he kissed Castiel, Dean couldn't believe how the moment felt like he was experiencing an incredible high for the first time. He could remember how the older man tasted the night prior like wine, and in the shower like minty toothpaste. But he was granted now with the opportunity of knowing what coffee could contribute when touched by those soft and daring lips.

Castiel's mouth found Dean's jawline, and then trailed kisses all the way down the nape of his neck until they were breathless and weak and blushing. His fingertips curled behind Dean's neck, resting their foreheads together as he tried to caress soft, smooth skin that grew flushed from his touches. And every single time he pressed a kiss onto the younger man's face, Dean melted into him like if this was their first time all over again in the window seat, after coming back from New York with a highly anxious heart and so many words left unsaid.

Castiel seemed to be quite silent otherwise and that much was significant of his doubts still that resonated after the possibility of losing the one person he loved. Quite truthfully, what he must have felt in that moment was utter fear, every single time they touched or made love, he embraced a coldness afterwards that kept briefing him on the disappointments in life. He loved someone, fought for them and then they departed without a care in the world about his heart.

"Dean?" Castiel's tone was softened almost to a whisper, "would you like us to speak about what happened yesterday?" and there it was, what he most feared; the inability to never let something go. "Forgive me for being so persistent but I cannot deny that we need to address it at least?"

Dean shook his head and twisted uncomfortably in the seat as he tried to conceal the small cracks emanating from their argument. "Nah, it's fine…" he shrugged and diverted his eyes outside to stare at nothing in particular, "if we don't talk about it, it'll just go out with the tide so let it pass over." Allowing the seconds to slip by without providing clarity, it was enough to widen those cracks.

"I can't let it to…pass over. This feels really wrong," Castiel tried in a soft tone, reaching out to caress the younger man's face with cupped fingers. "Please let us at least try to talk about it before the remnants settle like dust."

Dean sighed, folded his arms and stared at his socked feet, bright red and warm. "Thought screwing each other would cure that."

"That is not how this works," Castiel hurried in a softer tone after collecting the younger man's cheek into his cupped fingers and turning those saddened green eyes onto his face, "Dean, we are not chalkboards that can be erased and filled again with writing. And perhaps, you _might_ think about the repercussions of burying things deep down inside and what such a practice has done to both of us over the years."

"You want a refill?" the younger man jerked his chin at the coffee cup idling sitting on the sill of the window. "I think there's some left in machine."

"Dean…" Castiel's voice cracked as their fingers entwined, "don't change the topic so easily in order to deflect. We must have this conversation whether you wish to or not and—"

"I think I should really bake some ham today," green eyes sparkled, barely considered blue ones before he alighted from the seat. "Son of a bitch oven was acting up all week but it should be fine once I give it a go with a little more effort, I think."

"Fine, Dean," Castiel said softly, and he swallowed before inhaling, then casting his stare out of the window. "Have it your way. I wish not to sour the mood between us since it seems like I am always the spoilsport."

"Why the hell can't you let it go? Maybe you should take a page out of Elsa's book, you know?" Dean shrugged. "Stop being so…damn—"

Eye of the Tiger interrupted the moment which was hanging heavy between them, and relieved somewhat, Dean snatched his mobile from the windowsill. Their eyes remained glued together though, the sentences in the air and never settling because there _was_ something there. Both of them understood that the ghost sitting between them would not return to the moor until its presence was addressed. But Dean didn't wish to elaborate on his fears when they must have experienced three beautiful moments since the night prior and afterwards, moving from the bed to the window seat. And he desired those memories to be prolonged without the sourness of the past and the demons and the pain and the sense of feeling inadequate and battered from low self-esteem.

Why was this happening to them?

Wasn't this supposed to be soft and easy and beautiful instead of someone pushing the lid of a tomb away to reveal the skeletons inside?

"Dude, you never called me back, man." Sam began in a rather amused tone which evidently brushed away the shards of glass lying on the floor, "what's the status with you and Cas?"

He had been so occupied with his own thoughts, struggles and trying to gain back a sense of normalcy that Dean left his sibling out in the dark. "We're married and have a kid on the way." He rolled his eyes when Castiel stared at him with widened blue eyes. "What the hell do you think, Sam?"

A small gasp followed along with someone mumbling in the background, sounding very much like Jess and then the unified screams of the twins. "I mean, in all fairness, if you two can find a way to go against biology, then fine by me. I'm more than happy being an uncle. Jess! Get Mary and Marlene off of my hair!" a scuffle ensued on the other end until silence returned. "You two are together officially, then?"

"Yeah, sorry I didn't update you, man. Been too caught up with a bunch of stuff."

"I heard about Crowley," Sam sounded very angered by what he must have been told by either Ellen or their father. "You guys have your plates filled in Littleton with the FBI and whoever else may be snooping around there by now. Just remember that you shouldn't get involved, keep your nose out of their way and the same goes for Cas. How's he by the way?"

"Well, he's right here actually, and we're both naked," Dean grinned when the older man sent him a bewildered look, arms folded. Completely accepting defeat, Castiel turned to blink at the whitened landscape beyond the window. "You wouldn't believe how long we've been going at it."

"Oh, dear God," Sam groaned, and his brother could already envision his lanky sibling kneading knuckles into his eyes and trying to burn away the vision. "I can just imagine what all the pent up sexual tension is leading to. But you should come up for air once and awhile. Screwing each other's brains out might not be so good in the long run."

"Who came up with that theory?"

"Me. I've tested it. You remember when Jess and I first hooked up after you locked us in my bedroom?" Sam waited a beat until the truth settled in, and he smiled from ear to ear. "We went at it for about four hours and then burnt out so much, I think it took a week before we could jump each other again –"

"Now I'm the one who's trying to erase my thoughts of what the hell you two managed to do for so long. Really, Sam? This is what you called me for? To talk about sex?"

"Put Cas on," the younger Winchester collected a squirming Mary from next to his thigh and deposited her into the backseat of the car beside her mother. "Let me talk to my future brother-in-law."

By then, Dean was convinced that Castiel thought little of his character and wondered where the maturity flew off to, perhaps seeping through the cracks in the window. But he should have been used to the banter between the Winchester brothers, which most times escalated into a full-fledge wrestling match and rolled around until their legs almost poked into the fireplace. However, the older man returned his attention to the owner of green eyes that sparkled with humor, and he collected the mobile that was offered to him hesitantly.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel mostly experienced dissatisfaction from the interruption of the conversation they were entertaining prior. "Season's Greetings."

"Right back at you. Heard you're expecting, so congratulations. But can you at least get married before you deliver the baby?"

"Sam," Castiel sighed, eyes fluttering close as he was consumed from frustration and mild anger, "must you remind me of something that I may never be able to give your brother?" The silence that settled between them returned the two to the awful night in New York when their conversation was too strained to be considered as friendly.

"Look, contrary to what you might think of me, I was actually rooting for the two of you to end up together. Took a while on Dean's part, but it happened with my help and I think you shouldn't be so sour about it, man. I'm just trying to be funny."

Castiel absorbed the deeply affected words and sighed, realizing that he might have overstepped. "Forgive me, but I became too caught up in my own thoughts. How are you, Sam?" Dean rose up, signaling that he would lend assistance to his father in the kitchen with something John highlighted and he left the older man to himself.

The younger Winchester allowed the small moment to disperse in the wind because they were far too familiar with each other to entertain a prickly conversation. "All good. Tell me something, are things going well between you two?"

"One might ascertain that we are still adjusting to our own flaws."

"Don't overthink it. _It_ being your small differences. Best advice I can give you based on coming this far with Jess is that it takes time to level things out. You're in the early stages of now trying to mesh with each other again, no matter how long the two of you've been best friends, this is different. It's not just about friendship. It's about so much more."

Castiel rose up from the window seat and decided that his chilled fingers and cheeks would gladly thank him after settling before the fire. "I'm rather much feeling bruised at the moment. To be exact, your brother is proving over and over again that he is not willing to elaborate on his emotions."

"That's Dean for you," Sam said in a tender voice that was too familiar with his character and was capable of easing out the worries from anyone who sought comfort in him. "He chooses when to avoid talking about it and when he does, it's just his way of dealing with damage control. See the thing about him, is that if hurts bad, he shuts it down. So go figure."

Castiel decided that despite their age differences, and the breach of trust which would send Dean into a conflicting mood if he discovered the two were discussing him, Sam's comfort was deserving.

"I've never actually contributed to hurting him so severely that he wishes not to speak to me about it though. Usually, it's in the reverse and I am granted the privilege of acting rather petulant in my endeavors. Hmm."

Sam remained silent before deciding that something quite deliberate needed to be voiced in order to settle the unacceptable bouts of immaturity. "Why don't you ride him like a unicorn? I bet he'll talk plenty. He'll scream out his emotions to you."

Castiel sighed, wondering why on earth everything eluded to sex in young people's minds. John and the person they were both speaking about, entered the living room through the kitchen, fetching a rolled up red carpet. Then after resting it onto the floor, the two proceeded to roll it out to cover the stretch of floor which entertained too much cold beneath their feet.

"Sam, I'm too old, aren't I?" Castiel turned into the window in order to muffle the conversation, "what are the prospects of growing old together when I'm already…old."

"Dude, you're not old! Compare yourself to Bobby who's pushing sixty and still can get Ellen's knees weak. He's probably going at it in bed like an energizer bunny like life begins at fifty as everyone says. Come what may, you're worth it to my brother in so many ways. And the sad part is, you're burdening yourself with things that shouldn't give you the time of day. You and Dean _will_ grow old together. But you shouldn't think about that now. You should be thinking about all the times you'll have now to explore so much more with each other."

Sam was right in every possible way, and Castiel understood the simplicity in having someone state the truth so easily. Most times, it took an outsider to view the situation in another light, therefore shining some kind of harshness onto the fact that he may have been entertaining ridiculous notions about his undeserving character.

"Now don't tell either of them, but we're half an hour away, just driving by Lavender Farms." Sam chuckled.

"Are you really?" Castiel glanced at the two other men moving into the kitchen to grab cleaning essentials for the carpet and he stared at their minimal progress. "They're currently making preparations, of course, expecting you until next week."

"Nothing like a good surprise then. Hang in there, Cas."

After ending the call and lending a hand to the cleaning party, the three of them filled most of the time left with simple conversation about the importance of using the proper detergents on different materials. These topics were always convenient for John who learned from his wife and was determined to disseminate the information onto his older son. But Dean was far too knowledgeable on those areas to absorb the details for the first time, therefore he contributed by playfully flicking the cloth in Castiel's direction. The older man dodged successfully until John received a full clap on his rear and whilst the three of them doubled over in laughter, the generous party of five arrived in the front yard.

"Bitch," was Dean's first greeting after casting a stunned gaze onto his brother's tall and lanky frame unfolding from the blue Sedan.

Sam came forward in all smiles and engulfed his sibling into a tight hug. "Long time no talk to, jerk," he clapped him on the back. "You're glowing from morning sex. Look at you, all claimed and grown up now. Welcome to the club."

Dean chucked him aside, cheeks dusting with color and after Jess called him over, he welcomed her and helped with unloading the bags. The kids raced into the front yard in their snow boots, and the baby plopped after his sisters, wildly giggling with rosy cheeks. He had grown an inch since the last time his uncle held him in New York and seemed to be stretching just like his father. And as Castiel believed himself to be free to enter the house, the twins rushed towards him and hung onto either leg, their upturned faces beaming with delight.

"Unca Cassie!" they both chanted until Sam tossed a warm look at his brother, signaling that maybe this could work, that finally they were all connected as one big family, just as it was supposed to be.

In that moment though, as Dean turned from collecting a bag in Jess's arms and cast his gaze on the older man, he stopped to admire the softened scene. The warm glow on Castiel's face was too glorious to miss and he was such a natural with children that Dean felt a little pang inside his chest. He couldn’t help it, becoming too familiar of the truth; that he would never be able to gift Castiel with a child of their own. They would adopt most definitely, but just the thought of a baby sharing their genes, created from their union would have been such a beautiful miracle. And now, he would have to learn to be contented with the way things would naturally happen despite the modernized definitions of a family.

After everyone happened to enter into the house, he really did expect to return to Jess or rather Sam still by the trunk of the car. But lo and behold, it was neither and after being presented with Castiel leaning onto the backdoor, Dean's footsteps stalled, the sparkle in his eyes disappeared and he held his breath. Because of course the older man's intention was to _have_ that conversation which felt like sandpaper on Dean's skin, especially his heart. And why was it so necessary to return to the wreckage of a battle which could have left worst scars?

The manner in which Castiel displayed himself was suggestive of awaiting a conversation, his trench coat buttoned and collar turned upwards. His dark hair was disheveled and snowflakes caught between those unruly strands gave him the appearance of a terribly dashing wealthy man who would want for nothing but to be loved sincerely.

He was practically pleading with Dean for understanding as the younger man's footsteps stalled and through their gaze, nothing but honest attraction was digested. More so, the tug between them was without effort, strong and intoxicating until Dean literally was forced to pry himself away from drawing nearer and he sought out the last bag resting in the depths of the trunk.

"I suppose we could do what best suits our woes," Castiel folded his arms, stared at the towering house before him and sighed. "Every time we encounter a hurdle, we should…fuck each other until it disappears."

Dean reached for the bag and pulled it out as the words burned like little embers inside his chest. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Skin on skin. Raw passion," Castiel said in his gravelly tone, blue eyes turning icy. "Leaving hickeys on my body, making me release myself until I'm forced to muffle my screams into your neck—"

"Cas, what the hell—"

"Because that's the way we handle this, Dean, like adults who would consider making love than speaking about what troubles us most—"

"If you want to talk about it, then go right ahead and do that," the younger man said a little harshly, his green eyes burning a darker shade. "I've said enough at this point and I'm not going waste my time going back to a conversation that makes no damn sense to me."

"It makes sense to _me_ —"

"You want a damn couple's therapy session? Huh?" Dean stared back and was consumed by anger all of a sudden as the wind whipped his hair. "Should we call Doctor Phil and schedule an appointment?"

"Dean, I have insecurities!" Castiel said hoarsely, his eyes already filling with tears as he rounded the rear of the Sedan and pushed himself into the other man's space. "I am entitled to be as flawed and as wrecked as I am because believe it or not, your role model, your…guardian _angel_ has been dragged through hell before. This is who I am. This is…" he considered his ungloved fingers and realized that his hands were so cold, he was growing numb, "this is me."

"I never said I expected you to be perfect," Dean's voice softened tremendously when he studied the older man's demise. Closing the trunk of the car with a soft click, he hoisted the bag onto the rear and considered blue eyes that were downcast. "Cas, I can't begin to understand what you've been through, what it must have been like with Amelia and others…because I know there were others. Had to be with someone as amazing as you but…if we keep doing this. If we keep doubting what we have, we're going to drag each other back into hell again and believe me," he tilted his head when their eyes met, "I don't want to live like that with you."

Castiel had been holding his breath for so long that when he finally realized how being deprived of oxygen dizzied his mind, he sucked in enough air to burn his lungs. "I am not proud of myself but the one thing I've been most prideful of is you."

"Cas—" Dean croaked, tilting his head and shoulders slumped, he somehow tried to provide reassurance but was blocked instantly.

"No, please allow me to string out what my heart wishes to expel," the older man whispered, reaching up to paw away tears from his cheeks, "since I fell in love with you, Dean, I've been convincing myself of certainties such as watching you fall in love with someone other than me, how it would kill me when I would have to witness you marry someone else. Coming to dinner and having you sit by the fire with a girlfriend or a wife whilst I remained cold and bitter and incomplete because I couldn't have you. I never felt adequate to deserve you, Dean," Castiel's lips quivered when cupped fingers brushed his jawline and the younger man drifted closer. "The one thing I've wanted more than anything, is the one thing I still believe I cannot have."

"Cas, I've been saying this to you over and over again. I'm right here." Just when they both believed the moment couldn't become anymore sentimental, loud oldies began to drift across the moor. Of course the source happened to be Balthazar's room from the upstairs, the windows wide open and dark green blinds billowing outside. Dean cast his gaze onto Castiel again and realized that they were sinking so fast when just that morning everything felt so blissful. "Come on let's just go back inside and sit by the fire, have a cup of tea…coffee for you? Yeah?"

The older man sighed, "You're unwilling to risk the rest of the conversation and I am suffering from your inability to allow it. I should go home. I don't want to cut you with the pieces of me."

"Cas, come on, man!" Dean stared back in awe and couldn't believe how unfair the judgment cast on him seemed to be. "Which part of moving on and focusing on what we have don't you get?"

"I am not wired like you are to treat love and emotions as if they are things you may switch on and off. You may be perfect, but I'm not. So…I'm walking away" gesturing to the mansion looming in the distance, Castiel completely avoided eye contact and he blinked back more tears, "enjoy the rest of your day and bid your family farewell for me."

What?

Dean froze up for a few seconds and decided that the world could become so cold when that warming beacon of light in anyone's life threatened to break that beautiful profound bond.

"You're walking away?" he asked in a hoarse tone. "You don’t get to do that!" Dean couldn't believe how ridiculous the entire conversation was and he hoped that at some point, the older man would turn a smile in his direction to signal a mere game of tricks. But no such thing occurred as Castiel indeed began to step away but stalled after hearing the question being voiced so painfully.

"I can't do this, Dean. I just can't."

"You can't do _what_?" the younger man stared back, forgetting how to breathe, "handle me? Love me anymore? Because I'm too much for you?"

"Dean…no—"

"Then why do you keep fucking with my heart, huh?" there was more frustration but not enough to bring forth any tears. "You've always been the one who wanted me around, you saved me countless times. Whilst everyone was obsessing over some damn superhero, you were always mine and I never thought I'd live to see the day where you would actually consider leaving me—"

"I'm not leaving you," Castiel was never the one who always crumbled and cried easily whenever their hearts were at war but in that moment he embraced defeat. "All I desire is for you to have your best chance and I don't feel like you can achieve that with me—"

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean whispered, shaking his head and turning around to stare at the upstairs window where a slice of pink could be seen from the guest bedroom.

"I am going to be here for you until someone better comes along and then—"

"You really going to break my heart?" Dean asked so softly that he suffered from the sense of being alive at all. "Huh, Cas? You want to do that to me? Like _this_? Where I'm left to feel like I'm responsible because for fuck's sake, I'm some god divine creation who deserves better than you? I've been a complete introvert for most of my damn life!" he turned around and stared, completely bewildered and obviously so cold inside, he couldn't even feel his heart beating anymore. "Cas, I've lacked friends, had ones that made a shitload of bad decisions with the exception of you. I've failed, done over exams, read a ton of books that filled my head with fantasies about traveling and true love, which by the way, I never believed in until I woke the hell up and realized that I was probably in love for years now. I've graduated with honors _…because of you_. I couldn't be happy with Lisa," his voice strained from emotions, "or Jo or any other girl afterwards…I couldn't even goddamn get it up easily for them or reach the kind of… _high_ with them as I do with you. When you touch me, I…" Dean's chest heaved uncontrollably whilst Castiel stared back at him, lips parted. "You could just look at me and I feel so damn mellow, I've never kissed someone and become so lost. _You_ ," he said hoarsely, an inch of space between them at that point, "the one person I've worshipped and loved…you're telling me that I'm some kind of temporary fix—"

"Dean—"

"You never gave up on Amelia and she treated you far worse than I have ever done," the younger man searched inside of him and realized that he was crumbling. "I've never given you shit like that to handle. I've always tried to be everything you want me to be—"

"Maybe that’s the problem then. Maybe you're supposed to be everything _you_ want to be, Dean," Castiel proposed with a contorted expression from so many emotions. "I've guided you far too much and your limit has only been dictated by me. Possibly, I have caged you."

Dean's jaw muscles jumped before he swallowed hard, staring instead of mellowing because he was frightened and angry and soft and breaking inside. He was holding his breath and listening to his heart hammering away, knees growing weak and hands too cold. Most of all, he was utterly and completely in love, so much compassion welling up inside until everything else didn't matter except the purest kind of admiration and attraction he had ever felt in his entire life.

He wanted Castiel, was willing to fight for him, would traverse through hellfire just to remain by his side. There were things about him that people may never become familiar with, like his absolute loyalty to only one person. His undying trust, sheer commitment and despite all their arguments, Dean loved Castiel more than less. He stood there in that moment whilst they were staring at each other and he longed to take the older man upstairs and make love to him. Slow, deep love where they broke barriers and opened each other up in ways they never achieved before.

He drowned in those blue eyes like the ocean and sky and believed that if he kissed him, just closed the distance and took what he wanted, then all the doubts would disappear. But then there was always that sense of defiance in Castiel, a bold streak because he always believed that things should not be put to rest until the entire garden was walked through. And as much as Dean would kiss him, walk his lips all over Castiel's skin, none of it would make a difference.

"Always keep fighting," he whispered whilst closing the distance as snowflakes settled onto dark disheveled hair and he weakly reached out to dust them away. "I mean, if you want to prove that the status quo you made me live by all these years means nothing…then it's your move. But just know this," Dean croaked, rubbing his thumb across the older man's parted lips slowly, "I'm fucking… _crazy_ in love with you. I want you in ways I've never wanted anyone before. And this isn't about sex," Dean shook his head slowly as blue eyes widened and he dared to spare no space between them as their faces drifted nearer and the passion compelled so much more, "It's mostly about permanence. I want that with you, so the ball is in your court." Pressing a soft kiss onto the older man's forehead, his lips lingered there. "You get to decide our future, Cas," Dean said as tears burned behind his eyelids and his chest heaved. "You get to decide if I'm worth it or not." And collecting the bag, he hoisted it onto his left shoulder, tossed a wounded look at Castiel and walked back to the house whilst the tears finally flowed like a river until he was far too open after entering the living room that everyone witnessed the truth but no one dared to address it.

The decision to head into town to collect a few essential items like pampers, snacks for the twins and some other grocery needs sent the two brothers away in the Impala during lunch. But just before they left, Castiel was still offering Jess the opportunity to board in one of the many rooms in the Novak's estate, to which she declined and encouraged him to stay in Dean's room instead. Both of them were left smiling at each other on the porch and after Dean pulled the car into the path leading through the trees, Sam clapped him on the back.

"Well done," he said, beaming as always and determined to rouse some mischief. "I'm so happy for you, you know? Taking that giant leap and all…"

"Thanks, considering…" Dean gripped the steering wheel and couldn't fight the uneasy feeling inside his chest the unsettling conversation that felt so painful and final.

"Considering what?" Sam pretended to be oblivious to the fact that he had witnessed the tears and was quite aware of trouble in paradise. "You _can_ talk to me. I'm always good at lending an ear and giving good advice."

"Like the one time you told me to take Shirley to the milkshake parlor," Dean shook his head and remembered the old days. "Damn that was a horrible date."

"How was I supposed to know that she was lactose intolerant?" Sam provided with a scowl before folding his arms. "Out of all the times I pushed you in the right direction, you'll always remember Shirley. Huh."

"What's up with you and Jess?" Dean turned the wheel smoothly and his anxiety started creeping in like a fog which clouded his mind gradually. "You two good?"

As Castiel mentioned before, there it was; changing the topic like switching channels just because his brother wasn't comfortable with having a particular conversation. And Sam understood the struggle to contain all of the emotions inside, afraid to appear weak about falling from the blows of love. But he sometimes wished that Dean would come to realize that elaborating on his feelings wasn't something that was criminal.

"Whatever it is that's happening between you and Cas, it'll pass over. Just hang in there."

"Tell _that_ to him," Dean mumbled, wondering after the older man walked away if it really and truly meant that their relationship was officially over. If it was, then he would need further confirmation verbally, for Castiel to look him straight in his eyes and honestly commit to breaking up. He, of course, wasn't going to do such a thing. "I feel like I'm just going around in circles."

"Like what Post Malone said?" Sam turned to offer a strangely interested look which was only received with a definitely blank stare from his brother. "How's the sex? Is it any good at all? Because if it was then you two wouldn't be bitching all the time."

"Oh, it's good," Dean decided to play the mischievously demented card in order to distract himself from the growing pain inside of his chest. "We screwed each other senseless last night." _You'd think he would be thrilled that I gave him a pretty damn good blowjob too. I'd give him all of me, and still I'm not enough._

"Did you top?" after Sam was stared at with a look of sheer surprise, he shrugged, "just asking because you seem like a bottom—"

"You shut your face," Dean pointed and glared back before focusing on the road ahead. "Just shut the hell up."

The conversation only resumed after they were loading the groceries into the trunk of the car and no other than Charlie swung by on her Harley. Unfortunately though, after Sam highlighted his enthusiasm in coming home to discover everything settled quite nicely, she raised the topic of Crowley again. This time, her suspicions proved to be more along the lines of witnessing suspicious behavior between the criminal and other parishioners during the time she would have spent in the presbytery.

"Stuff like collecting money from Bert and Larry from the choir, kind of got me thinking that it was more than just coincidental. He practically handed envelopes out to people and no one thought about it. And you know what the worst part is? He probably paid all these people, including Dorothy, for services that were rendered to the freaking unholy church. I mean, can you believe it?" her green eyes widened, "it's outrageous!"

"Well just know that you should probably keep that kind of information to yourself," Sam advised based on his legal instincts, "unless you want to be dragged into this whole mess…"

"I wouldn't want to touch that with a five feet pole," Charlie shuddered and then she cast her stare on the older brother. "Why the constipated look?"

"Something about the new Deacon seems totally off too. I think he might be gay… What?" both of them were staring at him in disbelief and Dean shrugged. "I got a vibe from him, is all. Even Cas thought he was hitting on me the other day after church."

"Isn't it funny how his gaydar is conveniently working suddenly as compared to the many years Cas was undressing him with his eyes?" Sam shared a bout of laughter with Charlie who playfully punched him. "Slow to come to, but thankfully he's finally _there,_ am I right?"

"In my defense, I was just making the most of my friendship with the dude in any way I could and you can't blame me for not knowing he was in love with me, man. He never said anything." Dean folded his arms and considered the two who were delivering an abundance of smiles in his direction. "Added to that, I was never gay for anyone until Cas opened that door for me."

"Don’t forget how he's been opening your pants," Sam winked at Charlie and moved around the car. He waved at her as Dean stared back in utter awe. "Swing by tomorrow, will you? Come meet the kids. I know they'll love to have someone else to torture."

"You want us to go _there_?" the older Winchester would not accept defeat whilst they drove home and the wipers pushed away snowflakes drifting from the overhanging branches of trees. "You want me to talk about Cas getting into my pants? Because I can tell you all about it since you really seem to want to know—"

"I was joking!" Sam tossed a bewildered look at his brother and shrugged. "Spare me the details of you losing your virginity after a what? A five to six years celibacy? You two probably woke up the old man whilst you were at it. Gave him a bunch of nightmares for a long time to come."

"Speaking of _come_ …"

"Dean!" Sam's incredulous look met mischievous green eyes which returned to the road after the two of them tormented each other like old times.

"Five years was a long time, yeah," Dean admitted with a sigh afterwards as the sun illuminated the trees but never quite washed it over with any kind of warmth. "How the hell did I manage to hold out?"

"It's going to tell on you," Sam snorted and reached for his cell on the dashboard. "But it's normal. Just…pace yourself and don't go at it too much. Keep the fire going without killing the supply of logs. Burn slow and good and you'll be alright."

 _Maybe_ it was a bit uncomfortable to entertain such a conversation with his brother about his sex life with Jess, but at the end of the day, they were siblings. Their connection remained strong despite the distance between New York and Littleton and no matter what Dean was experiencing, he could turn to Sam although he never really chose that option. Why? Because he felt like his brother already had enough on his own plate and to listen to his woes would be a little too much and selfish.

Now though, the two of them were bonding like normal and it was so refreshing to sit in the company of someone and never have to feel uncomfortable about the conversation. He could speak about these things with Charlie any time of the day, but Sam was the one who he considered the heaviest disconnection to be in dire need of remedying. Therefore, despite the difference in their choice of love in terms of gender, love was love and as much as he was there to shelter Sam through his own relationships in the past, the sentiments were mutual after all these years.

"It's not like I'm afraid or skeptical anymore but he seems to be," he confessed, turning the car into the yard and latching onto the profound bond between himself and a certain wide eyed sophisticated gentleman growing stronger. Dean killed the engine after Sam lingered in the hopes of them prolonging their conversation. "I was a mess in New York, you remember?"

"How could I forget? I was totally convinced you were in love with the guy after you came right out and told him that you wanted to have his babies."

"I was _that_ high," Dean rubbed his eyes gingerly and sighed from the memories that came back bit by bit over the past weeks. "And you know what the worst part was? I didn't even know what to do about my feelings because I thought he didn't want me anymore. And now he's trying to push me away just because he thinks I deserve better."

"Dean, look," Sam sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and settled into the seat even as the engine cooled off. "In all fairness, things like these are natural. The amount of times Jess and I walked out on each other. But we came back to our senses that this means a lot more than anything else."

"Yeah," it was Dean's turn to sigh when he considered the long stretch of snow coated grass between them and the Novak's mansion that was still trampled by a particular pair of boots. "When this is all over and we're married, man, I'm going to give him hell with these memories."

Sam remained quiet for a few beats until his anticipation burst out. "So, you really want that, huh? To marry him."

"Why the hell not? It's not like I haven't been thinking about it constantly, and who else could put up with me and my crap if not Cas? The dude's fed me with a damn bottle when I was a baby, wrapped me in blankets and rubbed my damn chest with Vicks, gave me bad haircuts, looked after my bruises—"

"And now he's advanced to the level where he's looking after the apartment down south."

"You're an asshole," Dean said, staring at his brother's comical expression, "a giant dick."

"Lemme guess, _you're_ usually the dick and he's the comforting one—"

"You know, I like when you're not around, taking up a lot of unnecessary space—"

They returned to the house, unloaded the groceries and then Dean began preparations for a late lunch with the help of Jess and Ellen, the latter always stopping by at least once every day to still babysit him in every sense of the word. In her defense, she had all faith in his cooking abilities but still feared that he may add too much salt or a lot of extra seasoning to whatever was being prepared. And whilst the three of them moved around the kitchen freely, John played with his grandkids and Castiel's absence was missed dearly

He was joined by Ellen across the moor that afternoon. Her main aim was to assist her dear friend by cleaning an abundance of fish provided by Bobby and his hunting party. But gradually as the two of them settled into a routine whereby the basins were filled with trout and water, Claire was mentioned.

"Left to go where now?" Ellen could never understand why their daughters yearned to be away from their families.

Castiel handed her a fish clean of its scales and then she proceeded to clip off the tail. "Sweet Acorn. After Dean's advice to pursue a young woman she is very much in love with, she left two days ago to do exactly that." He marveled over his friend's expertise in quickly slicing the fishes down the middle and gutting them with such ease. "He's still acting out his role as Cupid."

"Damn shame he's always right. He's matched so many couples up to this day that I've lost count. Guess he takes after his mother who saw Donna and Jody coming."

Recalling the miraculous instance when Mary predicted their two school friends becoming a couple twenty four years ago seemed like such a long time. "How are they? I haven't been able to visit since Thanksgiving."

Ellen sighed, wiped her forehead with a sleeved hand and then she adjusted the yellow rubber gloves before resuming the murderous act of gutting one fish at a time. "Trouble in paradise. From what I heard, Donna got a job offer two towns away and it's not rubbing Jody well. And I get it. Distance and all. Means Donna would have to drive about an hour away every damn day, but it's more pay. The money would do well for their mortgage on that new house they want and if it were me…"

"Does this seem familiar to you?" Castiel's narrowed blue eyes met her astonished ones and after he began to scale another fish, she scoffed.

"Well, I'll be damned. The whole college fight after we graduated, huh?"

"Yes," the older man nodded and dipped his gloved hands into a basin of water before picking up the knife again. "Donna did not want the two of them to separate and therefore they both remained in Littleton. I suppose love does change things and people tremendously to become quite fond of each other's company." His eyes became distant, which his friend admired and shook her head.

"If Dean decides to move like Sam did to some other town where he can study, then you'll have to leave too, wouldn't you?"

"I might have to stay behind," Castiel said softly, avoiding eye contact and wondering why the fumes from the heater wasn't wafting towards him enough to chase away the chill, "if he wishes me to…go…then I will."

"And why wouldn't he want you to go with him?" Ellen found the statement rather much filled with the kind of uncertainty she wished not to hear. "You two are a couple. A damn cute one, if I may say so myself. I know it'll last a lifetime between you because love like that doesn't just die away easy."

"It doesn't," Castiel said, his voice barely audible as he suffered through his decision to taunt Dean with insecurities until he wasn't even certain if they were still together.

Ellen was quite fond of her friend's depth of admiration for the young man but believed that sometimes he doubted whether the relationship would really be something of permanence. "Have you two talked about these things though?"

"Talked about what?" Castiel's mind kept drifting to a wounded Dean after a fight which he wished not to elaborate on; _the ball is in your court_. The tears, the fear that filled green eyes that became such a softer shade, it was almost as if he could see into Dean's soul in those moments.

"Your future together. What commitment means for both of you."

"I think it's a work in progress." In the process of handing her another fish, he stared into widened eyes of a friend who would always remain very close to him because of the many years they were familiar with each other.

"Well, damn, Cas. Thought you would be making strides by now since you two are more than cozy."

"Is that a problem?" the older man turned to consider her smiling face and he was consumed with worry. "I've been thinking a lot about it lately. There are far too many spaces between us filled with doubts and all of it is just driving me crazy. I cannot settle my mind without having thoughts about someone or something coming between us and I keep…fucking things up. I keep…" Castiel groaned, dropped the knife into the basin and sighed, "…digging deeper and creating wounds that are unnecessary."

"Alright, what's going on," Ellen said after holding back from prying a little too longer than she anticipated. "You know I'm opinionated plenty. Hell if I can keep my mouth shut on things." The back door suddenly creaked open and the wind slipped inside like a ghost, revealing a slice of the gardens behind the estate covered in snow.

"Jealousy?"

"What the hell for, Cas?" Ellen dropped the fish she was slicing and turned to stare at her friend with mild fascination. He wasn't joking, really _not_ trying to be funny about his confession and she discovered that he was very much wounded. "Is someone making moves on him?"

"Not exactly," letting out a long sigh, he returned to cleaning the fish between his hands with a downcast look. "I have just been nudged by the appearance of his two childhood friends and it dawned upon me that they may be quite younger and very much serve as reminders that there are many better options for him."

Ellen though, nudged his right shoulder and chuckled, "oh you mean like Taylor Swift or Ryan Reynolds? Ha! Good one, Cas. You got to be joking because if you ain't then I'll have to scale you like one of these damn fishes."

Immediately, blue eyes widened and the fish slipped from his grasp. "Really, you honestly believe that I would joke about such a thing?"

"Castiel Novak, have you lost your goddamn mind?" Ellen literally sat back, kicked the basin away until it stopped with a loud clatter against the stone wall and legs spread open she stared back in awe. "Since when have you started seeing yourself like a stink in the gutter? That Amelia girl really did a number on you, didn't she? And Meg? That damn asshole who used you for your money? What was the other one's name again? Oh right," she nodded and pursed her lips, "Kelly, the _posh_ law graduate from Washington that you left town to take around in fancy cars and eat at fancy restaurants. Here you are talking about two old buddies of Dean like you're damn granted to be jealous when he knows nothing about these women you frolicked around with. And I bet that he wouldn't even be damn affected at this point if he knew because the last time I checked, Dean's got the hots for you like the sunniest day in summer."

When he merely remained silent, studying the glint of the knife, she in turn scrutinized his downcast expression and sympathized eventually.

"God knows you're wrecked Cas. But you ain't got the right to let something like this slip away. Many times you're going to look at him and think that all you're doing is holding him back but if he chooses you, then it's all the confirmation you need. And Dean's above all _loyal_ to you. If he says he's in this for the long haul then you best believe he is. Ain't no other man or woman out there who's going to look golden in his eyes, if you get what I'm saying. Because there's just you and once you're young and things get this serious between you and someone else, once I started hearing him talk about marrying you, youths don't go that direction if they don't mean it." She nudged his shoulder and he cast a saddened look in her direction. "He walked in the damn house crying today and I hauled myself upstairs to get whatever it was out of him but he wouldn't talk."

Obviously he did cry, because wasn't that the state in which he left Dean? Shaking and doubtful, angry and it was so reminiscent of the same disposition when Lisa wasn't coming around anymore or when Jo stopped answering his calls. Dean was on the brink of returning to drowning in that tank of anger again that would only blossom and become detrimental to his health, where he would slip into a sense of feeling less important and very much against the prospects of love. And out of all the people in the world who chose to bring back that kind of hurricane, Castiel realized that he should have been the last to do such a thing to Dean.

"The truth is, Ellen, I'm being deliberately petulant and selfish and moody," his heart pained so badly that he sat up and sucked in air that burned. "I'm trying to reveal all the bad traits that encompass me so that he may change his mind about seeing me as a perfect angel. And he may decide to leave me like everyone else ever did." 

"Well, that ain't fair, Cas," Ellen collected another fish from him and quickly gutted it in a matter of seconds. Her skills would never be replaced in their meshed households in every area possible. "He's twenty-five. He's a goddamn kind hearted soul that doesn't deserve your hellfire and I'll be damned if you hurt him—"

"Ellen—"

"No, Cas, no," she said stiffly, avoiding eye contact but still working on another fish. "Spare me the rest of it and I'm calling it bullshit right now because out of all of us, you were always the one Mary trusted and loved and admired. She might have left me to take care of her kids but she died after you made a goddamn promise. You vowed to stick to Dean's side through thick and thin. You vowed to care for that boy like your own until you fell in love with him and she probably never saw that coming but right now as she's looking down on us, I bet she's helluva disappointed in you for even trying the shit you've been getting into. I don't care if Ryan Reynolds walks into his life and tries to sweep him off his feet!" her eyes widened on him, "y _ou_ fight for him because he belongs to you. I don't care about your insecurities, Cas, I really don't because you can't say none of us didn't warn you about all those damn women you tolerated. They wrecked you because you chose to let them and you can't ruin Dean just because they ruined you."

Castiel's cheeks tinged red and he lowered his bashful gaze onto the basin only containing three more fishes. Her speech burned whilst digested and he blinked back the tears from harsh words that were quite deserving from an old friend. Indeed her statements proved to be utmost convincing that he was acting rather unfair and undeserving of pity and he must have thought his actions and feelings justified until she spoke so freely about the injustices.

How could he even feel compelled to deliver doubts on Dean when he had tolerated far worse from women in his life over the years? He hadn't opened up about their affairs, and if Hanna could have sparked so much self-doubt and conflict between them then what would Meg and Kelly do?

How could he zoom in on Benny and Lee's attachment to the man he loved without examining his own past lovers and what they could present to Dean?

"And twenty years and more suddenly ain't mean a damn thing…" Ellen stated sarcastically rather than with humor. "Twenty five damn years of growing together and learning everything there is about each other. No secrets. Nothing but love and admiration. Cas, you better do right by him because he's a son to me. And I'll be damned if you break my boy's heart by crashing in and leaving."

"I intend to marry him," he tried in an uneven tone, deciding that her anger must be replaced by a beacon of light. "So you should begin planning our wedding."

"You got the ring already?" Ellen carefully drained the water from the basin by tipping it over a little but her tone remained stiff. "Do you know his ring size?"

Of course he did. He always kept track of such things and marveled over his ability to pry without actually revealing his intentions. "Yes to both."

"Don't waste time, do you, Cas?" she allowed a soft smile and packed the fishes one by one into a silver tray so that Garth would continue to season and package them away. "Guess age should make you realize how time ticks too fast."

Castiel nodded, gingerly chewed on his lips and then he rose up, stretching out the kinks in his back. "That is true. Petulance shouldn't be warranted when I have something so beautiful."

There would be no one else to consume the need in his heart for Dean. She was very certain of the strength of his love but as of recent, she could also detect that they were both changing still. But even after couples married, the transformation still continued. In fact, when she became married to her first husband, she recalled doing so at a very young age and spending the many years after learning so much about him.

"Is he opening up to you?" Ellen dared to ask, because she was quite aware of Dean's solid walls and his painful experiences from a stained past.

"I'm trying to make him feel comfortable enough to…but he still seems to believe that there are things that I must not trouble myself in becoming familiar with."

"Give him time. He'll tell you everything there is to know. But once you find that he's not talking about it, means that it hurt him plenty enough. And this is the same damn thing I told Donna yesterday when we were talking about how Jody reacted bad about the move. She can't seem to get it that there's a conversation that needs to happen. All she wants is to jump to the truth without doing a little weeding."

What seemed like a different situation all together to Castiel, proved to be quite similar to his own worries about Dean because he realized how broken everyone was inside.

"Thank you," he said afterwards when the sun was setting low, dipping its head below the horizon and the clock struck six. "For waking me up despite my selfish actions."

"Fix it after dinner," Ellen said before rising up and finding the sink, she turned on the faucet and scrubbed her hands with generous soap. "You get him in a corner by yourself, and tell him you're goddamn sorry for acting the fool. He did nothing wrong to you. All he's done is give himself up to be changed by loving you and I'm so proud of him, you should be too."

That evening, after returning to the Winchesters for dinner, the brothers were upstairs preparing the guest room where Jess would remain with the baby. Sam always returned to his own bedroom, posters of Celine Dion and ABBA were plastered on the light blue walls and in there, he was showing the twins every single toy that meant the world to him many years prior. His pineapple shaped pillow that uncle Dean once tossed out the window and into the snow, the moose nightlight uncle Dean gave their father for his sixteenth birthday. And the collection of postal stamps from across the world that encompassed their father's hobby for many years.

The latter he decided to keep inside the old bedroom, despite his relocation and the reason for this was simple; Sam always thought of the house in Littleton as his real home. No matter where he and Jess landed, their hearts leaned towards that small town which would always contain an abundance of memories too fond to erase.

"Cas, what's your poison tonight?" tall and lanky, Sam lingered by the refrigerator and admired the older man studying the family photos on the mantelpiece. "Beer, wine, brandy, whiskey, water…Dean…"

"Tea," blue eyes squinted at the images and his fingers lightly brushed the frames. "No alcohol for me, thank you for asking."

"I'll make it," Dean suddenly showed himself, descending the stairs slowly and although rather deprived of flushed cheeks, he was abundantly layered in flannel, a turtleneck sweater and jeans. "Extra honey because you're such a damn sweet person, right Castiel?"

The older man immediately froze up by the fireplace and he turned his stare onto someone who intentionally used his first name fully to deliver a message. Seldom did Dean ever choose sarcasm so when he did, the effect was grand and delivered with a blow that slapped Castiel. "Yes please, and not too hot to scald my tongue."

Sam snorted into the mouth of his beer and when his brother moved past him, he playfully bumped shoulders. "Wouldn’t want to wound _that_ part of him now, would you?"

Rolling his eyes but still smiling, Dean enveloped himself in the kitchen and after setting the water heater on the counter, he leaned against it with a sigh. Everyone had to realize something was amiss by then, especially after his disappearance earlier but apparently even Sam was deliberately sidestepping the obvious. Naturally, Dean decided to sway his mind away from what was bothering him like a terrible fever because if he dwelled on Castiel, then he might possibly be driven insane from the unfairness of love.

Think about something else.

Crowley.

Could it be possible, like his father admitted earlier, that Lee's intentions were perhaps two-fold in nature? His friend's return seemed to be quite calculated and highly suspicious in terms of returning after so many years. Why him? Did he volunteer to join the investigative team or was there an underlying reason why he seemed to be lingering in town?

Crowley was tucked away in a cell somewhere that the sunlight may never reach him for many years to come and maybe his prayers would reach God if he really asked for forgiveness. This, Dean highly doubted the man would seek out because of his beliefs for all these years that he was on the right path, however twisted it was. But they were all guaranteed that the ring of abusers were captured that afternoon when Lee paid them a short visit…

Now after that particular visit, Dean was having second thoughts about his friend.

He mentioned that the FBI thus far gathered enough information and evidence to suggest a weak case, and that since Crowley wasn't acting independently, the severity of the crime would be softer. This meant that instead of serving the full sentence behind bars, the wolf in sheep's clothing would escape the agony especially by being armed with high-end lawyers. Lee also further established that the people they interviewed placed all their faith in Crowley and he was quite puzzled as to whether whatever was reported in terms of abuse and trafficking of people even occurred in the town in the first place.

Lee could not provide clarity on these statements though, but provided enough information to rile up John who disappeared into the kitchen until Dean's friend departed.

"Nonsense!" the older man was venting to his companion who continued to study the photos one by one. "Can you imagine? He actually thinks that all of it never happened."

Castiel sighed and seemed rather distracted after returning to dinner that night for obvious reasons to Ellen as well as the young man inhabiting the kitchen but to no one else. "It's evident that the victims' stories are being treated very lightly." Lee Webb. Someone he rather much _didn’t_ favor.

"So, abuse ain't worthy of attention then…"

"John, whether we wish to admit the truth or not, abuse delivered on men in particular has always been treated very lightly. Not here alone," Castiel turned to stare at his friend, "but worldwide, and might I add that it is always the norm for men of cloth to escape these charges because why?"

"They're the ones who people vouch for in terms of oh, he's so good to me because he believes in God and he was doing whatever he did in the name of God," Sam joined in sarcastically, "or…but father was always a good man. He'd never do something like that!"

"Exactly, and the law relies on substantial evidence which includes eye witnesses and testimonies. It appears as if those are very few because people wish not to expose themselves out of trauma or they must have been paid off to remain silent." The twins dashed around Castiel's legs and he patted their heads fondly whilst Jess chased after them. "The truth of the matter, John, is that he is a snake who may very well slither his way out of this entrapment within the quarter."

"Nonsense," the older man mumbled, sipping his beer angrily and causing his youngest son to consider him with a soft look.

It was quite evident to Sam that although his father criticized his son's preferred line of work, he still became passionate about the law dealing severe blows to culprits like Crowley. And as he observed Dean lingering by the doorway leading into the kitchen with a cup of tea on a saucer, Sam realized that their family was changing into something very beautiful. There he was slowly but surely returning to normal with his brother who confided in him like old times. The kids were growing older, Jess very much contented with their marriage thus far. And most of all, his father wasn't so sarcastic in regards to his job that pulled him away from Littleton.

"Why must people place so little faith in trust?" John asked the room, digging into the cooler for another beer and twisting the cap off. "It's when we don't trust each other, that's when things start crumbling."

"Dad, trust is always an issue with loads of people," Sam contributed as Dean entered the living room balancing a cup of fine porcelain on a saucer. "No matter how much you try to convince them that it's worth it, they just don't care. Take those people in the village for instance. Do you think they would trust an FBI agent who they don't even know or a damn priest who baptized their kids and consummated their marriages?"

"The law is the law, son."

"And I'm glad you see it that way but this whole mess is far more personal than we might think. Trusting someone is supposed to be based on how good you know them, coming a long way, seeing how they did you right and stuck by your side. Everyone in this room I would trust."

"Good for you, Sam," Dean said rather giddily as he stoked the logs and the flames climbed higher. "Some of us really don't feel the same. Years don't matter. Not even if you lay it all out, cut your heart open bleeding and make vows. Some people," he said as his voice dipped, "will never go the extra mile with you no matter how much you plead and cry."

After his speech, it was John who provided a healthy response but the rest of the room stared in awe from Dean then Castiel, the latter locking his glistening eyes onto the former.

"Come what may, you pick your battles, son. Let's say someone is struggling to trust you, ain't no reason for you to quit on them. You keep giving it your all until they wake the hell up and realize how damn fortunate they are to have you. Your mother?" he locked eyes with Sam because Dean was suddenly staring a little too long into the flames, "she had a serious problem with trusting me. Always thought I'd run off with some other woman and no matter how hard I tried to convince her I wouldn't, she still got jealous, we argued and bitched about someone else who could be Tom, Dick or Harriet. I had to sit down one day and tell her listen," he rested his beer on the table and studied Ellen's face, "we spend all this time fighting and pushing each other away, believing someday someone will come in and wreck our relationship. And all this time we could be having the best moments of our damn life. We don't know what the future has for us. Hell, we shouldn't be predicting the damn future but living in the present. And we're always so busy wasting time worrying about these damn insignificant things that we miss out on a living a good life."

Sam actually stared back at his father with so much awe that he slowly blinked from the utter admiration he experienced. Even Jess was too stunned to continue feeding the twins and both of them in that moment realized that had they been granted with that speech many years ago, then things would have been so much better. Ellen too was fixated on two particular persons in the room, understanding that this wasn't a coincidence that John decided to deliver those words among all of them in what felt like the most appropriate time. He perhaps sniffed out the discomfort between his eldest son and his childhood friend and thinking of providing clarity from his own experience was so effective that Ellen caught Castiel turning his eyes away then reaching up to dab at them. And perhaps she may have been too harsh earlier but she wasn't prepared to witness two people who deserved to be with each other tear themselves apart from such trivial matters.

Neither was John apparently. "She said I was too good looking, too good for her and women would swoop in and take me away when all I wanted was her. Wouldn't have traded Mary for someone else, dammit she was everything to me. We complemented each other and right in front of her when a woman would hit on me, I claimed her, although she never did before we were married. Kind of like keeping her mouth shut and waiting to see how I would respond, I thought it was like that. And relationships ain't supposed to be easy, but it's worth fighting for if you know you've got a good thing."

"I toast to that entire speech," Sam lifted his glass and beamed at his wife who smiled warmly in his direction before she jerked her chin at Castiel who was sitting not too far from her and appearing rather wounded.

"Change the topic," she mouthed to him, "hurry!"

"Why me?" he mouthed back, staring, until he identified his brother drowning in the flames, shoulders slumped and he understood that tears were being concealed. "Right! So…dad, Ellen? How about a game of Monopoly? Jess can be the banker because she's good at managing my money."

" _Your_ money?" she scoffed at him and rose up, pushing her blonde hair back. "Oh you mean the cash you make as a stripper at night?"

"Don't spill my business in front of these horrid strangers," Sam puffed out his chest and appeared quite cross.

It was so hilarious because although two persons were excluded from the list, no one cared to highlight the slight and for good reason. Which proved to everyone that John was more than privy to the bruises between his son and Castiel because before rising up from the couch, he squeezed his friend's shoulder and then cast a softer glance at Dean.

Being blinded by tears wasn't quite appropriate among a family setting, especially when the heat from the fire drew the waterfall forward easier. Sometimes he believed that they thought of him as such a weak character who may cry for any injustice, and over the past five years give or take, Dean strove to prove them wrong. He sucked it up, thought of their constant fall outs as absolutely unnecessary and decided that if Castiel continued to doubt him and his trust, then there was only one thing he could do. And that was to suggest that they take a break from each other, step back and prioritize themselves again because it was obvious that the older man was struggling to believe Dean loved him more than himself.

The pieces of the board game clattered onto the table and Jess' laughter filled the room before Sam's signature guffaw followed. In turn, Ellen boisterously announced that she preferred the dirty old boot piece and John fought her for his claim on the same thing.

"Dean, come with me," Castiel said after weakly rising up, moving to the fire and lightly touching his lover's right arm, the youngest Winchester observing all of this from the table. "Perhaps stargazing would suffice as soothing to pass the evening."

Really? _This_? Dean observed the pleading blue eyes and wondered what the intention was behind the offer only to conclude that this was really another chance for them to lament on the disadvantages of their match. Castiel would obviously purport to seclude them away from everyone and then continue the conversation of being disheartened by the unworthiness he felt. And Dean would have rather returned to his room that participate in those kind of torturing affairs.

"I think I'll join the game," he said stiffly, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the empty beer bottle resting on the maroon colored rug by the hearth. "They could do with a fourth and I'm good at—"

"Please," Castiel interrupted in a haste, his voice growing huskier and eyes still glistening with tears, he held onto Dean's hand and squeezed gently. "My love, if you must know, I have been such a fool lately and I really need to apologize but in far more words than a ridiculous 'I'm sorry'. And if you would spare me the time to make a complete fool of myself which I seem to be doing a lot lately, then I would be most gracious."

Dean sighed, felt his heart slow down and he nodded with the knowledge of already caving in since the words _my love_ drifted from Castiel's lips. He could become such a softie when pet names were utilized and wished more than ever that he held more composure than that. Nevertheless, the older man's grip on his mind, body and soul was far too firm to ever deny and so he obliged.

"Ah, the two lovers escaping to play games in the dark…" Sam's eyes chased the pair joining together by the kitchen door where he was leaning onto the frame. "Bundle up. Don't want to freeze off certain parts of you."

"Heading out back, is all," Dean's disapproved countenance did not bode well with his tinged cheeks, suggesting that he was far too aware of his brother's intended remarks. "Don't get into a fight with dad when I'm gone."

Sam pressed a palm to his chest and displayed a highly offended look. "I wouldn't dare! What must you think of me?"

Castiel, stealing a sip from his teacup, carefully maneuvered out of the taller Winchester's groping arms and he followed Dean all the way towards the backdoor.

Leading out into the cold night, the porch seemed rather much bitter to entertain any kind of company until the younger man gestured to the northern corner that contained a comfortable two cushioned couch. Draped in a warm multi-patterned blanket and another one folded neatly, the space suggested a very premeditated plan to bring the two of them together for conversation. And Castiel drew nearer with flushed cheeks, entwining his gloved fingers, he squeezed them together as if trying to generate a little more warmth inside his hands.

"Best view around here," Dean jerked his chin at the dense trees, darkened by the night and although shadows played through them from the cottages, the peaks of the White Mountains were still visible. "I come out here when I want to clear my head. Sometimes late at nights too," hands shoved in his pants pockets, he sighed. "Works wonders…you know…nature."

"It does," Castiel decided to choose a place on the chair and after collecting the blanket, he unfolded it slowly whilst their eyes lingered on each other. The unbuttoned plaid shirt caught his attention and had done so over an hour ago when they first encountered each other. And even though the younger man wore a black long sleeved wool sweater underneath, he still managed to reveal enough skin for the purpose of teasing. "Your mother did the same," Castiel stared guiltily. "Many nights she and I sat out here and talked about an abundance of topics that ranged from school to love and our future. And to learn that you find comfort in the same space is very nostalgic for me."

Dean moved to the wooden railing and leaned a hip onto it, casting his gaze towards the trees where small lights danced between them, almost as if fairies were playing in the night. He could feel her though, his mother, sometimes she would simply settle among them like a reassuring presence that brought a warmth into his soul. Other times he would yearn to have familiarized himself with her more, instead of taking those six years for granted. The times when she would live inside the kitchen and then emerge with cookies and cake, and as he observed her whilst plopping himself on the counter, Dean learned slowly.

It was one of the many beautiful things she left behind with him, the ability to find comfort in the kitchen and whip up meals so easily without being guided by someone. Baking too was his favorite hobby, experimenting with pastries and lasagna and pies; she would have been so proud of his extended abilities. Just as she was always fond of his attachment to reading from the age of four, labelling it as their own special bonding moment and never letting such a thing go after so many years.

"Dean?" Castiel's soft voice drifted into the younger man's head, immediately clearing away the warm memories. "You're remembering her, aren't you?"

Nodding, Dean reached up and pinched the corner of his eyes. "Yeah," he said in a husky tone, then swiping his nose, those green eyes were directed towards the trees again. "You know…feels like she's still with us in a way. And I guess that the little things I do just keep reminding me of her. Over and over again."

"That bond will never disappear."

"I just wish she was here, man," Dean folded his arms and inhaled deeply when the tears threatened to come forth. "She'd be so damn happy to see her grandkids, dad still going hard in his workshop and…us," he shrugged. "Dad said she was always the voice of reason. And these days I need that voice to guide me."

Castiel peeled away the blanket and patted the space beside him when their eyes met, his own soft and inviting like a comforting pool of blue. "Come sit with me."

"Just give me a minute."

Green eyes mellowed and he sighed, gazing at the trees in the distance and envisioning so many living things between them that may be threatening and also comforting. In many ways he felt the same about their relationship at that point, that the smallest things could become threatening or also comforting.

They were so fragile most of the time, mostly he was and he wanted to develop some kind of security between them that would assure him of their cemented bond. But maybe he was expecting too much in terms of gaining that kind of gratification because what else could he force Castiel to do?

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he tried softly, realizing that his throat had closed up and tears threatened to come forth, because recently he had become a complete mess and detested this new change.

Castiel recognized the destruction in the younger man's self-worth and he wished to envelope him in an embrace. "I was in a terrible mood yesterday and today and I should not have taken it out on you. But because you're the one I am deeply in love with, my first instinct most times is to lay all my emotions onto you because I can't trust anyone else with how I feel. And I have been spiteful and selfish and unjust by attempting to push you away. I have realized my faults and would like to sincerely apologize for acting with such immaturity."

Dean savored the feel of the cold wind stinging his cheeks and he simply closed his eyes, allowing the bitterness to distract his mind from the present.

"I've been doing it for years," Castiel continued, considering the face of a young man who was trying to drown himself in everything else rather than dwell on their prior disagreements. "I've been coming to you in my sour moods and every single time you've chased those moments away with complete bliss. You've entertained me, listened to my woes and tried to cheer me up as best as you could despite the circumstances. And I've been so selfish…believing that you wouldn't decide to put me first…above everyone else…"

When truly, Dean understood what the cause of the distress was, being that many years he deliberately chose to distract himself with other people so that he would never have to fall prey to an inclination towards the older man. Did he even realize what all of it meant years ago? Possibly no but the itch was always there, admiration confused for attraction and adoration compared to jealousy that came quickly and burned. Now though, he felt so ashamed of himself for wasting so much time debating on the truth whilst all the insecurities bloomed like weeds that they would have to spend some time clearing away.

"Your silence is very jarring," Castiel said softly, his grip on the saucer a little too weak because of trembling fingers. "Must I believe that I have no chance to remedy what I have done?"

"No, it's just that…" Dean swallowed hard and turned around whilst maintaining a lowered stare onto the porch, "I mean…we can break each other so fast. All it takes is a few hurtful words and I'm down in the dumps, dammit. And it's not like I'm supposed to be so fragile," Dean said defensively whilst understanding that he indeed was very delicate just as his companion. "But when you say certain things to me…" he decided to allow eye contact, the sparks between them never fading but growing brighter. "Cas, you get under my skin like a damn fever."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Castiel was so mesmerized by their chemistry, captivate by it that he drowned under the haze whilst the words circled around him.

"Maybe it's too much?" Dean whispered as he drifted nearer and decided to settle into the small space that appeared so cozy. "Like you said before, I take things too seriously and it always turns into an argument and I'm sorry about the way I react, but it's only because I'm in love with you. That's why every single thing you say to me has a heavier meaning and I just can't take your words lightly."

"I shouldn't be hurting you. We shouldn't be hurting each other. Look at us shedding more tears than laughing abundantly like we used to."

"I'm the problem, right?" Dean blinked through his tears and shrugged. "I'm always the problem. I'm too young. I get defensive and I talk back. I feel things differently like a girl, as dad says…and although I try to shut it out, my emotions just wreck me inside and I'm just so damn unlucky that love isn't for me—"

"No, stop, listen to me please," Castiel took the younger man's face between his palms and rested their foreheads together. Their gaze mellowed and although Dean's lips quivered, he tried to implore a sense of security between them. "My dearest love, permission is granted for you to be whomever you wish to be, once you do not stray from my affections, I couldn't care about your temperaments. At this point, Dean, I am only very much contented that you are mine, and you may…throw tantrums if you must," Castiel chuckled, "be as youthful as you please. But never feel as if I may cast any judgment on you if we argue because as always, we mend."

After a prolonged silence that was consumed with their steady breathing, entwined fingers and gaze cast towards the trees, Dean sighed. "And what about all the things you said earlier? Seeing me with someone else, wanting something you still think you can't have…I'm here, Cas, to stay and I'm yours as long as you need me but if you don't want me, then I'll just have to—"

"I want you," Castiel rushed out, his fingers curling behind Dean's right ear and drawing their lips closer together. He brushed their noses, a dull ache developing inside his gut and gradually they allowed a chaste kiss that unearthed a throaty moan from the younger man. "I will hold onto you so tightly because you are my anchor and always have been. No one," he whispered when Dean pulled him into warm arms that felt like coming back home, "will ever be able to steal you away from me because I will…fight for you as I've always done. I will…fight for you, Dean, sweetheart," Castiel's voice grew so gravelly as his tears wet their cheeks. "I promise you that I will never doubt you again."

"Really, you will?" the younger man croaked, stunned by the change of perspective as compared to earlier.

"Yes, you are not a temporary fix and I would be a fool to allow such a thought."

He didn't cry, not in that moment really but instead he kissed the older man back with such depth, that they could no longer ponder on anything else but becoming lost in each other. The taste of honey and ginger on Castiel's lips was something that curled Dean's toes until he melted into those protective arms. Until he was moaning from the hand seeking pathways under his shirt and across his chest. Until he was raking his fingertips through disheveled hair and tilting Castiel's face upwards so that he could graze his teeth across that perfect arch of the older man's neck. And even then when the snow fell lightly onto the world, covering the moor in another blanket, Dean performed the role of the seducer, almost as if he was trying erase all the doubts from Castiel's mind, trying to claim him all over again and succeeding throughout his progression.

By the time their necks, lips and shoulders were raw from bites and kisses, conversation came again like old times, without the strain of minds or the fear of demons threatening to tear them apart.

"See? How we mend?" Castiel produced whilst they both entwined their fingers and studied the bond, their hands held out before them. "Nothing can keep us apart."

"Keep reminding yourself of that and just know that no one can replace you. This right here?" Dean slipped his free hand over the older man's crotch and immediately Castiel sucked in a generous amount of air. "Is _mine_. All mine. To have and to hold, till death do us part, every glorious inch of your body."

"How poetic, and not badly done at all. I am indeed impressed." Tilting his head onto a slumped shoulder, he sighed and continued to release what little pent up worry remained inside. "Does every song remind you of us now or is that just me?"

"Mostly Taylor for me. I cried like a baby today just listening to her album Evermore over and over again. Her songs got me through the painful times between us and some day if we meet her, we'll have to thank her."

Castiel found his mobile inside his coat pocket, pulled it out and opened YouTube, then tapped in the relevant keywords. "Take me through your journey then. I would like to feel everything you've felt."

When Dean highlighted the choice, he smiled before assisting to select the album and when _Willow_ began to play, he pulled the older man in closer. And it was the perfect setting, the night sky, lights dancing through the trees, the blurred peaks of the White Mountains, Novak's estate towering across the moor that was covered in white. The swaying branches, rustle of leaves, cold breeze and comfort under the thick blanket. The way Castiel pressed his lips onto Dean's left cheek, allowed his kiss to linger and their fingers remained entwined like always, like a habit.

"Well champagne problems will never apply to us, because I wouldn't leave you standing there with a ring in your pocket if you ask me to marry you," Dean said softly. "I'll take you in a heartbeat."

"I hope so," Castiel said, brimming with anticipation from his plan to indeed complete such a deed. "I hope you do me the honor some day of becoming my husband—"

The title was so…definite and felt so real.

"Cas…" Dean croaked, his heart melting from the actuality of experiencing that moment. "That would be a dream come true for me. I'm going to write my vows down in advance, you know. So that I can get the words done right before that day comes."

"I must have done something extraordinary in my life to deserve you," Castiel pressed a kiss onto the top of Dean's head and squeezed tears from his eyes. "I am so happy. I've never been so contented and torn and blissful all at once in my life until now."

"Hurricane Dean. I'm Miley Cyrus' _wrecking ball_ ," he was smiling.

"May I swing on you like she did?"

"Cas…" the question was asked so innocently, "stop right there because—"

"Because what, Dean?" Castiel leaned in, brushed his lips onto Dean's ear and smiled. "Because I'm all that you want and I keep you _coming_ back for more?"

Swallowing hard, the younger man stared into the thick forest ahead and stopped breathing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Excerpt:**

_Jody: "You know, I can't believe that when we were all in school together, and talking about romances and who Cas would end up with, we never thought that it would be no other than Mary's son. Do you folks realize how beautiful that is?"_

* * *

Dean retired to bed early that night, disappearing without bidding everyone goodnight and burying himself beneath a pile of blankets that never really generated enough warmth. Turning on his side, Dean stared out the window for a long time, watching the snowflakes fall softly until the shower grew heavier into a white wall. The world around him was being buried, just as his past was supposed to be because for once in his life, he belonged to someone who loved him endlessly. But the mushiness was still there and despite his attempts to listen to music, the tears clouded his eyes and squeezed through his eyelids.

> _I made this playlist for you._
> 
> _It's all the songs I think defines us and my feelings for you._
> 
> _Hope you like._

Dean's thumb hovered over the keyboard on his phone and then he searched for the playlist on YouTube. All were Taylor Swift songs, of course, and because she would always dull his feelings based on her depth of understanding them somehow, he smiled through the haze of his tears.

> _C – Crazier_
> 
> _A – Archer_
> 
> _S – Sparks Fly_
> 
> _T – This Love_
> 
> _I – I Think He Knows_ and _I’d Lie_
> 
> _E – Everything Has Changed_
> 
> _L – Lover_

Castiel was probably still downstairs, sitting silently and awaiting him to return which would have become a stale kind of anticipation after half an hour passed by thus far. But he instantly read the message, and for a long time there was no response until Dean discovered that staring at the screen was beginning to sore his eyes.

Turning towards the lamp on the bedside table, he flipped on the switch and buried himself deeper into the pile of blankets. Come what may, revealing secrets were supposed to leave someone feeling raw inside and the moment he understood that he needed to divulge those memories, that is when he discovered how his love for Castiel was deepening. There was no denying that they were falling in love every single day, breaking and then fitting together. They were becoming so connected that as he lay in bed trying to recover, he didn't feel alone.

He felt anchored.

The mobile vibrating on the bed between the sheets startled Dean and he dove under the layers for it in a haste. After opening the message, he stared at it for a long time before the tears came back again.

> _Why did you leave me?_
> 
> _I promised you that I would hold you for as long as you need._

Dean swiped at his nose that tingled before debating on a response. The voices from the happy conversations downstairs drifted up and seeped through the walls. Sam was loudly explaining the plot of The Nun whilst John protested loudly that he despised horror movies.

> _I know. I just can't face anyone now._
> 
> _I've cried too much already and I feel crappy about it._
> 
> _Dudes don't cry as much as I've done in a month._

Castiel began to type immediately and a soft wind brought the tip of the branch to Dean's window, the sound of scratching reminding him of the awful childhood fears of a boogeyman outside.

> _Dean, there is nothing wrong with displaying emotions._
> 
> _It means that you're human._

It also meant that he was changing and becoming someone else and he would never be the same frivolous, carefree young man anymore.

> _Thanks. I love you._

Rolling onto his back, he could feel his cheeks tinge with warmth and smiled softly whilst awaiting an answer.

> _I'm sitting on the stairs whenever you need me._
> 
> _I love you too, my darling._
> 
> _Sam is very passionate about these horror movies._
> 
> _He's riling your father up by bringing religion into it. SOS._
> 
> _Ellen is jerking her chin up to your room with a twinkle in her eye._
> 
> _I can decipher her intentions._
> 
> _She's silently asking me to soothe whatever is bothering you with affections._
> 
> _And by affections, I suppose she means long kisses and sex._

Dean long forgot the sunken feeling and he smiled, tongue tucked between his teeth whilst typing.

> _Let's skip the kisses and go right into the sex then._

Castiel prolonged the reply.

> _No. You are exhausted after today._

Green eyes sparkled as Dean rose up from the bed and slowly approached the door with the main intent to follow up with a few suggestive replies.

> _Come here, Cas._
> 
> _No._
> 
> _Cas._
> 
> _Absolutely not._
> 
> _Huggy bear, come here right now._
> 
> _I SAID NO._
> 
> _I'm taking off my clothes. Shirt first._
> 
> _Sweater…_
> 
> _Belt…_

Dean was merely trying to get a rise out of the older man, really never complying to the words he was supplying but remaining fully clothed.

> _Pants..._
> 
> _Boxers…_

All the messages accompanied the two blue ticks and he could literally feel Castiel's stare directed onto the screen.

> _I want you so bad, it's kind of showing._
> 
> _No really, it's showing a lot that I want you to touch me._

The sound of light footfalls outside the door and then the knob turned slowly in front of Dean, so slow that he held his breath and anticipated the meeting of their eyes. This was always the moment in time when his heart would hang on the edge of a rope, dangling and screaming like his lungs, for things that only one other person could provide. And locking his phone, he carefully reached out and rested it onto the ledge on the wall before the older man finally presented himself.

From the moment Castiel realized that he was toyed with, hands planted on his hips, he provided a bright smile and a tilted head. "That is _not_ nice!"

"I can't believe you fell for that!" Dean concealed his chuckle behind a hand and his cheeks dusted dark red. "You honestly think that I'd strip in this weather? Come on. Only if I'm about to head into a warm shower or I'm under you… _under_ a shitload of blankets, then I'd…" when the buckle of his belt was roughly collected between daring gloved fingers, he stopped, immediately, green eyes widening.

Castiel tugged them dangerously closer so that the front of their jeans kissed first, and then with their immediate gaze deepening through every second, he suggested exactly what his intentions were. The lust in those blue eyes darkened like the lapping waves of the ocean at night, or the blue sky just before day disappeared along with the sunset. It was so sudden that Dean wasn't expecting such a quick escalation of the older man's advances. He honestly didn't believe that they would come together hungrily as the urge inside of him flowed like a river, pooled enough warmth inside of his gut and weakened his knees.

"If you weren't so ravished by the terrible wounds of today," Castiel said in his gravelly tone that deepened whenever their lips danced nearer, "then I would kiss you all over."

Dean swallowed, his chest heaving as he was walked backwards slowly. "Maybe that's the only way…those wounds will heal. If you make love to me until I forget." When the back of his knees bumped the edge of the bed, the soft, cool feel of the mattress through the denim of his jeans, he accepted defeat.

Falling into a sitting position, his eyes still glued onto widened blue ones that were drowning every single painful memory away, Dean reached for the front of the older man's chocolate brown jacket and tugged him closer. The meeting of their bodies was gradual but explosive of so much heat and as Castiel climbed on top of him, he freed himself of that burdensome jacket slowly.

The black tie looped around the younger man's bare fingers and he couldn't help it when his legs parted to accommodate his lover. His body began to open up like a flower from the aftermath of a storm, the feeling of being so thirsty for sex and pleasure that he couldn't conceal his matched lust. And when Castiel tried to caress Dean's neck afterwards, the younger man collected those graceful hands and pried the black leather gloves away with his bare teeth, finger after finger with their eyes still latched onto each other.

The two of them considered no bounds when they came together like that, beautifully moving in the shadowed room. The snow piled inches upon the lawns outside and when the whiteness blanketed the trees even more than before, their kiss grew deeper and warmer and electric. Their tongues sought comfort in each other's mouths, lips parted to reveal low moans that emanated from their bodies pressed together. And Dean couldn't help it when he kept raking his fingers desperately across the older man's back, under his shirt and then nails digging into smooth skin which was branded by the blackened ink of wings.

He could feel how the muscles rippled beneath those wings when Castiel moved, so much heat emanating from between them that was engulfing their bodies in a kind of passion which was bordering on something so erotic. Even as Dean quickly unbuttoned the older man's shirt, he felt desperate hands working on his belt then zipper and maybe this was how the world ended and then began for him. In someone's arms that wanted nothing but to chase the pain away by embracing any kind of style of love.

Rough, if so preferred, which Dean seemed to yearn for, quickly discarding that caramel colored shirt and moving onto tugging at the waistband of Castiel's tailored pants. He was dying, suffocating throughout the minutes that they peeled away their clothes whilst kissing and biting and tugging at each other's lips. Dean never believed that he could formulate the kind of sounds which filled the silence and he thanked the heavens that his room was somewhat sound proof because Castiel was as hungry as he was.

At first, Castiel merely kissed him deeply, propping himself on elbows that dug into the sheets on either side of the younger man's shoulders before he aligned their naked hips together. Then before he lowered himself onto Dean, he allowed their eyes to meet and as the laughter and conversation downstairs deepened and still the world disappeared hastily, Castiel rolled their hips together. Their cocks slotted together between them, Dean's arms pinned above his head as he let out a soft cry that was hoarsened by pleasure.

Those blue eyes became dazed from the magnitude of their hips grinding together, from the older man's thighs clamping him down into the sheets and the bites. Those soft bites on Dean's neck were so toe curling that he mewled from the feel of teeth and tongue. He wanted so much more though, that a deep surge of electricity built up inside of him until he became too conscious of it. And flipping them over whilst startling Castiel immensely, Dean panted from above until he crushed their lips together again.

He couldn't believe how they could fit so perfectly together, how the feel of another man's body underneath his own could ignite so much passion inside of him that he thirsted for more. Why had he wasted all those years with other people when he could have been making love to Castiel? He could have been tasting his perfect tanned skin, running his teeth over the tattooed words on the inside of the older man's wrist and then kissing the palm of Castiel's hand so tenderly.

He could have been biting into the nape of his neck and feeling Castiel writhe underneath him, gingerly grinding their cocks together that were so hard and waiting to be relieved. And he could have been tenderly trailing kisses along the older man's jawline all these years, feeling the light stubble tickle his lips and understanding that he never wanted anything else.

He just wanted Castiel.

Fingers digging into the toned torso underneath him, the well-formed biceps that were beautiful, gripping those muscular thighs that were a beautiful resemblance of the body of an angel, a warrior, Dean began to move. It was a slow rhythm at first, one that drove the two of them crazy and gasping. They were both leaking from anticipation, chest trembling until there was no more room for teasing. And because the two of them could never seem to allow the other enough dominance whenever in bed, Castiel rolled them over and took over with a faster and rougher pace.

Dean came in seconds after he was dominated again, trembling from the pleasure rippling through his body and crying out every single time he emptied out between them. He spilled into Castiel's fingers, his thighs wrapped around the other man's waist, the feel of teeth biting into his right shoulder was just enough to tip him over the edge again and again. And the older man remained folded into him as they both rocked into each other, moans escaping into Dean's skin as he couldn't remain silent himself, but desperately buried his grunts into Castiel's neck.

How could he keep going off the edge so many times, was beyond his understanding and when he realized that the prolonged agony between them was building from the inability of the other man to join him, Dean weakly reached between them. He collected Castiel's cock between his fingers and roughly started to jerk him off until he cried out into Dean's shoulder before coming.

"Fuck biology," he said afterwards when they were cleaned up and sitting on the soft cushioned window seat. They were still in his bedroom and Castiel's eyes returned to a soft blue that was so captivating to gaze into. "I want to make a baby with you, dammit."

"Well, considering what we've accomplished in less than twenty four hours," the older man chuckled and pressed his cheek onto the glass, entwining their fingers and legs tangled together under a thick blanket, "I suppose if it was possible, then in no time your wish would be granted."

"Right? I read that dudes are grossed out afterwards," Dean said softly, studying the way his palms were being caressed tenderly. "They can't wait to get cleaned up, like it's dirty after what they've done. But I don't feel that way at all. Do you?"

Castiel shook his head, toes softly digging into the younger man's side so that Dean squirmed from being slightly ticklish. "All of it is just blissful for me."

"Besides, I love how you taste. _All_ of you."

"I’m yet to taste _you_ in my mouth," Castiel reminded Dean, his tone deepening enough to generate a warmth inside the younger man's gut.

"You could do it now, you know?"

Blue eyes widened. "Your sex drive is skyrocketing, hmm? It appears as if you could keep on going for hours until we are hanging on the precipice of exhaustion and thirst for air and even then, you would still keep going. Dean, you must rest. Your mind is in fact, very much in need of –"

"Stop making out and come let us play another round of Monopoly!" came Sam's voice from outside the door and the knob rattled a little. "Cas, you can't have my brother to yourself all the time, man. I need to get to spend some time with him! Are you two decent?"

Dean groaned, burying his face into the curtains and Castiel laughed at the irritated expression. "Yes, we are decent. You may come in, Samuel."

The door swung open and the tall, looming figure presented itself with an aghast countenance. "How dare you call me Samuel? That's the name you use when I've done something terrible enough to deserve a good thrashing. Oh, look, a neatly made bed to hide the obvious." Those emerald eyes swept the room with a playful grin and then Sam considered his brother's scowl. "What?"

"You know, I could wrestle you and still win. And I'd do it effortlessly," Dean hugged himself and tried to evade the coldness seeping in through the opening of the blanket by his waist. He was fully clothed, of course, having already anticipated the arrival of some member of his family to check up on the two of them.

Sam, hands planted on his hips, appeared astonished by the suggestion that he may lose. "Since you seem to be defeated by Cas after a good roll around, I'd give you the chance to win –"

"Bitch!" Dean sprang up from the window seat laughing and chased after his brother, through the bedroom door and down the stairs. They didn't end their playful game until the couch was sought out and both of them tumbled onto the floor, legs tangling as he reached for Sam's hair and ruffled the perfect locks.

"You'd think they're kids still," John assessed his sons from the table where Chinese checkers was being set up by Ellen who fondly smiled at Castiel slowly descending the staircase. "Hey! Watch the damn fire before you get yourselves lit up!"

Very soon, the only two persons excluded from the game were the owner of a bewitching pair of blue eyes and his female friend, both of them returning to the couch with cups of tea. The rest of the party dug into a game of Monopoly that ended up becoming a riot of laughter and cries of protest until in their own little bubble, Ellen finally managed to continue their conversation from earlier in the day.

"You two sort things out then?" she admired the soft glow that rested on the older man's cheeks. "Talk and play?"

"And what if we did?" Castiel's twinkle in his eyes didn't subdue even after he sipped some tea and returned the plate and saucer to the table before them. "Both works, you know."

"Oh, I'm not judging," she laughed and stared at him incredulously afterwards. "Man, look at you getting all the action you always wanted. You're beginning to smell like him even. And before you know it, you'll be finishing each other's sentences and saving water by showering together. Not that I’m complaining." Ellen's eyes rested on Dean's happy form beside his brother. "Hey, day after tomorrow is Christmas. Bet you got him something nice."

"I did, and what did you buy for Bobby?"

"Socks," Ellen snorted, arms folded, "and some nice spandex tights."

"Are you serious?" Castiel stared back, stunned, the cup of tea frozen over the saucer. "Good God, however will he fit into it?"

"It's better than the other option of gifts I had in mind. A pair of fluffy pink slippers. Cute little bunny ears to match. A pants with a puff tail."

Both of them heartily laughed, sparking up interest from the table and as the night progressed into just past eight, the wrapping of the gifts commenced for the kids. Now, this was Dean's expertise according to his brother; the ability to conceal the toys in the form of large sweets or any other shape apart from what was really inside the packaging. And whilst he and Jess performed their Santa Clause duties, John took a six pack of beer onto the back porch along with his son and the two of them watched Ellen and Bobby drive away in their truck.

"Damn if I don't ask you about coming here earlier than expected," John handed Sam a beer and his stare remained steady. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Packed in a couple extra hours last week and cashed in on them early enough," taking a long swallow, the taller man settled onto the sofa his brother and Castiel occupied earlier and he gazed into the night. "Honestly though, I was desperate to get away from there."

"Yeah?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the lip of the bottle. "Thing is dad, it's only as good as it looks on TV. All the hustle and bustle is all good until you begin to feel like you're falling behind. And it's not that I can't keep up. Hell knows I'm good at that. Always done it. But it's so many things all at once, you know? The kids, the trains to work, getting in late and having to study. Jess and I don't even get to spend time together and the drives we take down here probably give us the only chance to spend hours with each other."

John considered his son's face and although he wished to lament on the relocation to another city which separated Sam from family, he wished not to rub salt in the wounds. "I get it."

"You do?" still believing that his father would have rambled on and on about the injustice of distancing himself from Littleton.

Taking a sip from his cold beer and despising the winter that stared them in the face, the older man nodded. "Believe it or not, when your mother and I got married, we had our challenges too many like couples always do. We couldn't get anything right. And then when Dean came along, we still thought we couldn’t get it right until she told me something that stuck. She said 'nothing matters except love. Once you got it, everything is right.' And maybe it sounds corny as hell, but damn, if you stick to the feeling you get when you know that Jess and the kids are your family, then everything else doesn't matter. Son, the job, the studying, you working your ass off to provide for your family, and that's all the motivation you need."

Sam could have provided a reply if he thought it was essential at that point, but instead, he allowed the words to settle between them like a soft blanket for various reasons. The most important one was understanding that despite their quarrels, his father was always supportive in terms of family and dishing out good advice in times of need. But there used to be days when harsh words were thrown back and forth, the inability of John to understand how Sam could have been so reckless with his teenage years. Alcohol and drugs, skipping classes and although these distractions were temptations by the devil himself, end of term exams proved that nothing could dull the evident A's.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of them like always and very soon, no other than Castiel joined the party, on his third cup of tea and very contented.

"So, brother-in-law _to be_ ," Sam gestured at the vacant wicker chair covered in an abundance of blankets. "Are you practicing safe sex?"

"Come on, son," John scolded with a smile as he studied Castiel's wrinkled shirt and twisted belt buckle. "Go easy on him before he runs away. The man is in a very delicate state these days."

"Believe it or not, nothing the two of _you_ ," two fingers pointed from one man to the other, "can say that will cause me to flee. I am far too accustomed to your teasing nature."

"Teasing, he says," Sam grinned like the Cheshire cat and burrowed his butt deeper into the cushion. "Cas, it's time for us to give you _the talk_ , because you're screwing my brother and my father's son. Now, as far as intentions go," the diverted blue eyes and folded arms signaled that Castiel was evidently not prepared for that conversation, "are you merely pleasing yourself for the temporary gain or are you fixated on a permanent union?"

"Really, Sam?" John guffawed and reached for another beer whilst his childhood friend offered up quite an amused expression. "Now, you're going to scare the man away. And we don't want that or else Dean will murder us all in this house. Castiel's become his favorite book that he likes to read. I dare say, he's going to be very familiar with those pages when he's done."

"Very well said, you assbutt. You know what? I would like a beer if I'm going to sit through this traumatic experience. And by the way," Castiel studied Sam who was pressing his fingertips together to suggest a heavy kissing session, "there is no need for an interrogation since you've known me all these years."

"Oh yeah?"

"You wanna bet?" John followed after his son, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes despite a smile resting on his lips. "We got some things to say and we best say them now. Don't think you can get off easily because of history."

"I should have stayed inside," Castiel mumbled, gingerly kneading his temples with his gloved fingertips, eyes closed and obviously prepared to be harassed but all in good humor.

"First thing's first, you can't bring that Hanna chick back around here for now or else it will bring up lots of bad vibes," Sam said without revealing what occurred in New York to his father because that was very personal and he wished not to unearth something that would cause the other man to feel more uncomfortable.

"I don’t think Cas will intentionally bring in a lady in at this point."

"Yeah, but he cannot guarantee that a lady will not _bring_ herself in at any point."

"The man _is_ good looking," John pointed out to his son incredulously, "what the hell can he do to avoid that? Wear a damn sign that says he's taken and off the market? Look, chances are that the attention will still come until you got that ring on your finger. Which I've been waiting for years to see and so far, not a damn thing is happening so make it happen as soon as, Cas. I've noticed that Dean changed a lot in a short space of time by becoming humbler and a lot less playful. He's been keeping to himself mostly, and doing some thinking which I know is about you two. And all of that's damn good and I'm glad to see it."

"Well, we don’t have to ask you if your job's any good," Sam picked up back on the interrogation. "You're loaded and could retire now if you wanted to and live as best as a Duke."

"Now, he's going to make it seem like I need him to stick around over here after the two of you tie the knot," John leaned forward and lowered his voice whilst glancing at the backdoor, "but don’t think that it's a big thing for me. I got enough help around here and he'd just be across the moor anyway so it's not like he's moving a whole country away like this one here." He jerked his chin at Sam who sighed and rolled his eyes. "You two need to build your own life together somehow and to have your own privacy."

Castiel blinked at Sam after the younger man winked in his direction and he slowly sipped his beer whilst maintaining eye contact.

John though, was oblivious to their mischievous silence so he continued. "All I'm asking of you Cas, is to keep my boy safe and as happy as you can because he's special. In more ways than one, he's not like this one here, able to push on through things like it ain't bothering him one bit. Dean is more the sensitive type and because he was softened by you and Ellen until he became a fairy—"

"John," Castiel's tone was low and suggestive of his disapproval in the usage of such descriptions. "He has done the best he can despite his character and it is the main reason why I love him immensely. He is anything but soft. He is the strongest and bravest man I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."

Without offering a reply, Sam held out his beer and awaited a toast. "Cheers to that," he knocked their bottles together when Castiel complied and then after John joined in, they all toasted their belief in Dean's strength. "I couldn't agree more with you on that one. I've seen my brother go through some things that even I wouldn't have been able to pull myself out of. The way he pulled through, how he had the guts to come right out and tell you how he really felt, man…that's good as."

John remained silent for a while until he grunted and offered a sympathetic look. "I could get a little wayward but I don’t mean bad by it. You know that, Cas."

"Of course."

"You staying the night, Cas?" the younger Winchester asked afterwards, offering a second beer to the other man but nodding after it was declined. "Bet Dean would like if you holed up here for a few days for Christmas. I mean, isn't Balth out of town?"

"In fact, he is," Castiel realized that his brother wouldn't be around for the holidays and he grew a little disappointed from the decision. "He's gone to London to spend time with Michael and Gabriel. I was supposed to accompany him but of course, you understand my reason for remaining behind."

"Which is why you have to board here with us," John said simply with a nod, "at least from Christmas Eve because I know tomorrow you got the usual busy day of consulting with those pestering clients. Don't make it stretch into the day after like last year. Remember you got someone here who wants more than ever to spend every single time he can get with you. And when he can't…he mopes about the house like someone's died so…"

"I'll try my best to wrap everything up by tomorrow evening," Castiel could promise with confidence but he was quite aware of his workload leading into year end when people would wish to flood him with their financial problems. "But I must return home this evening because there are a few things I need to accomplish in my office and since it is past the hour of nine…" hesitantly, he rose up and sighed at the backdoor.

Sam understood that a farewell would wound Dean a little after the two men spent a night together and woke up for the first time as a couple, well according to what his brother revealed earlier. "He'll understand," he said softly when Castiel drifted to the door and bid them good night. "I'll keep him distracted as best as I could but call when you get the chance and message in between at least. Give him something to look forward to whilst you're neck deep in other people's shitty financial decisions."

Possibly, the most difficult thing experienced between them would have always been walking out into the front yard after dinner. Dean being all too familiar of the looming moment when he would have to part with his best friend until the next day, and wishing that they could have enough time to finish their entertaining conversations. But that night when the younger man followed Castiel towards the gate, they weren't best friends alone. They were now too familiar with each other's bodies and revealed so much between them than ever before. And when Dean stopped and collected the older man's shoulder between his grasp, he couldn't hold back the tears that filled those green eyes.

"Look, I've got to say this and maybe it's going to come out damn mushy because…" Dean's voice cracked, "you make me mushy. But…Cas, I don’t want to sleep in my bed without you," he said hoarsely, reaching up to swipe at his nose and sniffing, "I don't want to know what that feels like again. It's going to make me wonder if I've dreamt all of this, like it's all been happening inside my head."

"Dean, look at me," Castiel stepped closer and collected the other man's wet cheeks between his palms and when that beautiful shade of emerald rested on him, he gingerly chewed his lips. "I'm always here with you, and I always will be right beside you. And if you ever need me, I'm right across there," he turned and pointed at the looming mansion where the windows gave off an eerie glow from the lights behind them. "All you have to do is come and find me. But you must understand that my job is tiresome and awfully hectic and as much as I'd like to stay with you every single day, I cannot."

Dean swallowed after soaking in Castiel's disappointed countenance and he reached for the older man's hands, collecting those gloved fingers into his own and tenderly squeezing them close to his heart. "Sure, I get it."

"Besides, you’ve got your nephews and nieces here to fill the day with, along with your brother…"

Dean's face never became washed over with a look of relief though but he nodded. "Yeah."

"And those Christmas movie marathons that you love," Castiel studied those green eyes and although he could have been contented with the stolid expression, the times when Dean was unable to abundantly speak were quite suggestive of his honest feelings. "Can you bake cookies for me? Like you always do?"

"I will."

"Message me abundantly and send me voice notes until dinner?" the older man's heart was hanging low when those green orbs lowered after a small smile was presented.

"If you want me to…"

"Of course, I want you to," Castiel said softly, caressing Dean's right cheek with cupped fingers. "All I'll keep daydreaming about is our intimate moments and hopefully, I might be able to concentrate on those numbers. Sweetheart, it's not like I'm leaving you to…go to Canada or London or Australia. Please do not be upset about this, hmm?"

"I know, I'm damn stupid about it."

"You're not stupid, how you feel is important to me."

"Yeah, well then can I come stay with you for the night?" Dean understood that he was asking too much and that the request was ridiculous, but he still hoped. "I don't want to sleep alone, huggy bear."

It was too much, rather like squeezing a lemon when it already delivered enough juice and still deciding that there could be so much more. Testing the waters, as people might like to define such a request as; tugging at the line and hoping that the bait was enough to catch something.

"Dean," Castiel's tone was strained as he pleaded and despite his inability to turn down any request from the person standing before him, he couldn't comply. "You know that we may not sleep and I really need to because I'd like to be able to wake up feeling fully energized and focused. And if I have you around, then—" his words faltered and there was a small ache inside his chest that became inflamed as every second ticked by.

"Sure, Cas," Dean croaked and nodded quickly after the insecurities poked into his chest like shards of glass, "you're right. You always are. I love you," he pressed their lips together softly and stayed there for a few seconds, then pulling apart, he smiled warmly before letting go. "Good night."

"I love…you," Castiel stared when he was abandoned almost instantly and his words extended up to the moment when the younger man's footsteps led towards the door. But not before he understood that if there one thing most certain about their bond, it was the ability to read Dean quite skillfully.

He wasn't contented, as much as he would try to be, and that was quite obvious from the retreating silence and the inability to linger a little longer. Just after they remedied the bruises between them? It wasn't acceptable to ruin the evening at all.

"Wait!" Castiel called out and hastily closed the distance between them, unable to breathe and suffering lightly from a wave of anxiousness.

The younger man's eyes widened, obviously expecting that his wishes would be granted until Castiel unwound the purple scarf from around his neck quickly and draped it around Dean's neck. His fingertips brushed soft, cold skin where the winter covered but his lips not so long ago roamed, where his teeth grazed across that perfect jawline and he buried his moans into soft dark blonde hair.

"Keep it," Castiel said softly, a bit breathless from making such a hasty decision and also on the precipice of fearing that when he walked away, Dean would still decide that his actions were disappointing. "Sleep with it tonight and know that I'm there with you. Good night."

"Thanks," the younger man managed before he cast a deepened gaze into blue pools and turned around to push open the door.

When Castiel slowly descended the steps from the porch though, he could feel the weight of self-doubt Dean carried with him into the house. He couldn't fixate on a definite moment when those fears would drift away, but for now, the weight pressing down on the man he loved more than himself was too much. And despite his heart screaming for him to just spend the night and then return to his home in the morning, early enough to prepare for business, Castiel could not accept defeat.

He walked towards the gate with tears in his eyes, very much contented though and pushing it open, he glanced at each and every window. There was no face staring eagerly back at him, none at all except blank spaces that left a hollow feeling inside of his chest. And thus, he proceeded to cross the moor understanding that it may take time for their relationship to adjust but it most definitely would.

Xxxxx

Charlie's entrance at midday the next day brought along the kind of distraction that Dean craved for, and despite his inability to concentrate the entire morning on the Winchester's tradition of putting up the tree very much near Christmas, his friend's cheerful disposition helped. And she brought with her treats for the kids and stuffed toys that the twins adored and baby Dean would not part from her arms no matter how much Jess tried to pry him away.

Charlie was a natural, and very soon she had the brood of them circled around the floor with papers and crayons. And it was in that space of time whilst setting up the little art class that she discovered her friend constantly staring at his phone.

"Hey!" slapping his thigh, she handed him a crayon, "work on a card for Cas instead of looking so brooding and pensive."

"I'm not…brooding and…pensive," Dean scowled whilst his little namesake bounced up and down and giggled abundantly. "Good to know one of us is happy, huh?" he poked the baby's nose and he squealed. "You know, I could be less dramatic about this whole thing if I could but it seems like my heart feels otherwise."

"And that's normal," Charlie folded her feet and reached out to collect one of the twin's plaits, the bottom tied off with a cute red bow. "It's called nesting. You want to just stay in bed all day with him and do nothing but cuddle. Especially after going all the way…"

"We didn't…go all the way," Dean corrected softly, knowing that the three little faces studying their drawings would never understand the conversation but still relying on precautions. "Well, I mean, not as far as _that_. But far enough that I can still feel... _blue_ , all over me."

"Nice nickname," Charlie smiled widely and hugged herself, "blue probably feels the same too. And blue is probably being tortured right now. And you know, maybe you're being dramatic about it because it's not like he could help it. He has to work and it's not the end of the world but I get you. I totally do. You're in the nesting and pining stage, which is basically making _you_ needy as ever. Who is the cutest baby in the world?" she poked the infant's nose and he giggled again, "you are! You are so cute and precious."

"Should I message him then?" he frowned after drawing a blue circle and including two round pools of the same color.

Charlie stared at him as if her friend sprouted two heads. "Wait, haven't you already?" and when he offered a saddened countenance, she sighed. "Dude, don't be like that, okay? Don't…shut him out."

"I'm not shutting him—"

"Is Santa Claus real?" Mary suddenly asked with quite a confused expression. "Daddy said that he's a fat man who can't fit down the chimney so mommy opens the door."

"Santa!" baby Dean squealed, a handful of crayons waving above his light hair until all of them rained down on the floor. "Santa Claw! Santa Claw! Santa Claw!"

"Santa _is_ real," Jess drew nearer in all smiles, still wearing a pink apron with bright yellow sunflowers printed on the front. And jerking her chin at the two young people, she silently assured them that the trio would be tended to. "You two can go do all the gossiping you want without looking after my soccer team."

Charlie sprang up and collected her friend's arm into her grasp, then he was tugged towards the rack of jackets, where they each collected one and pushed their socked feet into snow boots. Outside was colder but they were far too equipped with bundles of scarves and layers of clothing to shield away such bitterness. And coupled with that, Dean's growing anticipation that he was being overdramatic seemed to heighten the heat emanating from within his blue sweater.

Sighing, he checked his phone for any new messages and determined that Castiel may be waiting on him to send the first one. As childish as the entire thing appeared, he was the one hanging onto every half an hour like doom's day was on the horizon. Whilst the older man was probably so very much occupied that he barely could focus on his own mobile, especially his messages. And just when Dean was prepared to at least send a _hi_ because he realized that the weight of the silence was hanging like a heavy wrecking ball, another idea blossomed.

"Okay, so how about I just go over there and talk to him?" he asked a bright pink Charlie who was scowling at him, hands planted on her hips. "I mean, he said that I _could_. And…I'm being a dick, aren't I?" her expression signaled to him that immaturity was shining bright from his forehead.

"Dean, you're overthinking this!"

"I'm not, I'm just trying to…fuck," grimacing, he covered his face with thick black mittens and could literally feel the anxiety like a thousand needles prickling around every single part of his body. "Shit, I'm screwing this up. I'm fucking screwing this up and I'm going to keep screwing it up until I lose him and he goes out there," he said wildly, gesturing at the rest of the world, "and he finds this amazing person who doesn't behave as…as _I'm_ behaving right now."

"He's not," Charlie said softly, but her friend was overly fueled by his own insecurities. "He's not going to go looking for someone else when he's already gotten you. Dean, it's…" she sighed and studied her pink mittens, "okay, so it's like this. You were at this stage where there was nothing but love and accepting that you love him, right?" when he nodded but still appeared flustered, she took a hold of his shoulders, "I mean, you moved from being completely straight and clueless to completely gay and smitten over the dude. And it all happened so fast, you know? You didn't get time to process everything and then boom! The two of you jumped into first, second and halfway third base…and it's normal to keep thinking about him and wanting to make out with him and being glued to him all the time. It's normal, Dean."

But he was already shaking his head, because the bubbling feelings, overwhelming him like a fountain felt far from normal. These were emotions that he never experienced before, either with Jo or Lisa; the undying feeling of desiring someone so much that every single pore craved touch, taste and so much more. Even his mind was completely consumed with Castiel until Dean determined that he was becoming insane, slowly but surely he was falling into a space where infatuation would become a terrible issue. And maybe this was the result of unknowingly pining over your best friend for so many years, becoming used to their presence and their approval, that when that barrier broke apart, everything came flooding in like a tsunami.

"Dean, you could go over there, okay?" Charlie said softly and squeezed his arm whilst offering a pleading look, "you could walk right into the place and ask to see him and he'll come out and talk to you. But don’t you think that he deserves to spend his time doing other things too? Dorothy, for instance, when she's farming, it's her _thing_ and I could go out there and help her. Sometimes I do, but I get that she needs her space and time to think away from me. And maybe that's what this is for you two. You've spent a whole night together and a whole day. You've made out, I'm sure a bunch of times and you need to just sit down and enjoy other stuff like your niece and nephews, your brother's here, Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, cooking…focusing on yourself for a while."

The silence that followed wasn't golden, in fact it was consumed by Dean's cheeks becoming flushed and then followed by a disappointed expression settling in fast enough. His eyes lowered to the trampled snow, his fingers clenched in those black mittens and those shoulders Charlie held onto, slumped slowly until he sighed.

"I'm not saying that wanting to be with him is bad," she said softly after deciding that he was inwardly scolding himself harshly, "you're in love with him and you've fallen hard for this guy who would never give up on you, no matter what. You could screw up all you want and Cas would still love you. I'm so sure of that and here's the thing, Dean…you _are_ going to screw up. You're going to say things to him that you don't think is okay, you're going to feel too clingy. You're going to cry when he tells you stuff because you're taking it way too serious. But it's what love does to us, okay?" her mitten pawed his cheek tenderly, but he only nodded. "I have my bad moments where I do the stupidest things and then I can't forgive myself for them but then I'm like, screw this. I'm allowed to because I'm high on the most beautiful drug in the world; love."

Dean understood that her words were substantial enough to warrant a conviction of understanding and consideration for his situation. He was far too aware of how unsteady he could become recently and therefore to have a friend who shared the same experiences in her own ways, to have someone who could balance him when he needed to; it was very essential. It was a miracle that the one person who came into his life, completely deprived of love like Charlie, could already be seasoned enough to offer him the best advice he ever could receive. And because he was speechless, still overpowered by her honestly, Dean simply wrapped his arms around the energetic abundance of pink, and he squeezed her warmth into a hug that lasted for a long time.

She melted in his arms, burying her face into his maroon colored winter jacket and remaining there until the anxiety and tension within her friend dissipated. And then when they were slowly walking towards the fence, admiring their deep boot prints in the white snow, the decision was made to settle on the bench. From there, the two of them huddled together and simply gazed at the Novak's mansion; its roof frosted in white and the concrete walls painted the same color glistening in the sunlight.

"Now, text him," Charlie said after nudging her friend's shoulder, and understanding that he was still swimming around in thoughts of a certain someone. "I'm sure he's waiting on you to do it."

Dean startled when he reached for his phone in the pocket of his coat and felt it vibrate immediately. Very few people messaged him such as his immediate family, Claire with updates on her pursuit of Kaia and then Benny with his usual banter on ridiculous things. Knowing though, that it could only be one person who lit up his mobile, he panicked and after tugging it out, those green eyes settled on Charlie's widened ones.

"I swear, if he just messaged you, it's like the two of you are reading each other's minds or something."

And it was _him_ , having sent a one minute and fifteen seconds voice note with his online status still registering like a bright beam of light. Naturally, Dean braced himself for anything at that point, understanding that his lack of reaching out earlier would have rubbed the older man the wrong way for various reasons. And after pressing play, he rested the phone onto his numb right ear and stared at the mansion looming across the moor with glazed eyes.

"Hello, Dean. How are you?" Castiel's tone couldn't be deciphered as anything but normal up to that point. "Well…naturally you're having a wonderful time with your family. You've probably been busy all morning and I…was…just," his voice died away as the low rumble of voices filled the background, "…I'm being silly, I really _am_ at this point and I must be out of my mind for admitting this but I keep wondering if I've crossed your mind at all so far. Have you been thinking about me? Surely you have. Of course, you _have_ and I…must be sounding _so_ foolish right now, but I…" he sighed, and Dean could literally feel the uncertainty and flood of emotions consuming the older man, so much that his eyes filled with tears. "Are you angry with me? Is that why you haven't messaged me at all? Or called? Are you giving me the silent treatment after what I did last night? I should have stayed…with you, Dean. I should have acted against my judgment and stayed with you because your request would not have been made unless it was the most important need at the moment. And I'm sorry, Dean, I'm really sorry for my complete disregard for your feelings that I placed my needs above yours."

The voice note ended and he wasn't even conscious of another one sent whilst listening to the prior message that it immediately began to play.

"Nothing in my life matters but you," Castiel croaked, and the sound of a door softly closing followed. "I've been trying to focus all morning but there is this constant need to check my phone. And every time I do and there is no message or missed call from you, my brain is forcibly convincing my heart that you're very angry and wish not to speak to me. This is paranoia. It has become my worst enemy since we first…since you admitted that you love me. Dean…I can reroute my clients if you still need me, to someone else who would be very much capable and none of this would dent my reputation in their eyes. All I'm concerned about at this point is whether you're far too frustrated by me to even spare a few words. Please let me know if you'd wish for me to clear my appointments because I will…in a heartbeat. I wish you were here with me…Dean. You really _should_ have come over and spent the night with me."

After the older man's words died away and those green eyes squeezed out two tears that trailed down his cheeks, Dean gingerly chewed on his lips and sniffed. Weighing the mobile in his hand between parted thighs, he understood that Charlie was awaiting his response, because she couldn’t cease staring. Of course, she would determine that the message delivered were far too heavy and deserving of a certain amount of time to absorb all of it. But her buzzing anxiousness was like a bright pink aura and after he decided that she was deserving of something, he sighed.

"He blames himself for not staying with me last night. It's what he always does…" Dean lifted his wet eyes and considered the distance between where he sat and the windows where Castiel resided behind one of them. "And he thinks that I'm mad at him, and that's why I haven't texted."

"Are you though?" Charlie asked the question that was buzzing around inside her mind since earlier.

Their eyes met and Dean shook his head even before replying, because he understood at that point that whatever was happening inside of his chest wasn't disappointment in Castiel's actions. "I could never be. It's more like being mad at myself because I expected too much."

"How?" she frowned, sitting up straighter and considering his face. "Because you asked him to stay with you?"

"Because I thought…I felt like I couldn't sleep in a bed without him…holding me. Not because he didn't stay. He had that right like you said to get back in his own space and do the things he wants to do. But my _expectation_ that I could actually suffer without him right there next to me…."

"Then there's only one thing you can do…"

Dean turned to study her frown and he searched those green eyes which offered a hopeful but concerned look. "My brain's so fuzzy, you might have to jump right ahead and tell me what that is."

"Move in with him," Charlie said so suddenly, with so much certainty that it took a full minute for her friend to actually replay those words and digest the weight. "Talk to him about it and then say, hey, maybe I can try this for a week. I can stay with you or…better yet since it's the holidays now and his clients might die down for a couple days. You can ask him to stay over here with you or if you prefer….you can go over there with him."

"Charlie, I can't…" Dean's throat closed up and his lungs constricted because of the simple request that felt so ridiculous at that moment. And if he even attempted to do such a thing, then wouldn't it come across as too forward? "We've only just started out, you know?"

"Dean, what the heck are you even talking about?" Charlie's eyes were wild. "This isn't a trial period for either of you. It's the _real thing_ , which means that it's not some dating game that will come to an end. It's the beginning of an amazing journey where you literally spend the rest of your life with this guy. This is _it_ , Dean. This is your life. With Cas."

Moving in with Castiel?

Spending a week, preferably with the man he loved, sleeping in his bedroom next to him?

Dean stared into the forest behind Charlie, the trees blanketed with snow and he became lost in thoughts of how that conversation would unfold. Where he would have to expound on his deliberate need for the two of them to share the same space, the desire to take their relationship one step further…And how would Castiel respond to that request? Surely, he would become tangled in his own doubts, understanding that this was where the two of them could become more than a couple and very much like the real deal; like a married domesticated relationship.

Then there was the possibility that the older man may not adhere to such a request, and would prefer if they spent a considerable amount of time learning to adapt to each other before taking that leap. Weren't they still exploring their bond in ways that were never accomplished before?

"You should reply to him," Charlie poked his arm.

Dean startled, stared blankly at her and then considered his phone within his grasp. "He asked if I want him to clear the rest of his day for me."

"That's what you want," Charlie said softly, very much admiring how her friend seemed to be battling his feelings so bravely, it was a shame that he could never determine how brave he was in her eyes. "But I don't think that you should ask him to do that."

"If I don't, he's going to think that something's wrong. Like I'm still iffy about this and I don't want him around."

"Then tell him that it's not. Tell him that you're going to wait on him for as long as it takes and that you love him. And you're having fun with the baby…let him know that you're okay. Go on…" she nudged his arm and offered a lopsided grin, her pink beanie twisted sideways. "Dean, I'm not pressuring you to do what I want you to do. If you want him over here, then go for it. But just think a little more about how it would appear to him if you let him do his work, and give him space and then when he's done working, he can come over and be with you…"

"I know, I know," Dean's glasses began to fog up and pulled them off, squinting at the mobile between his mittens. "Jesus, I feel like a kid."

"You're not. You're human. And if you weren't behaving like this, then I'd be worried. So, go ahead and send him a voice note or text him," and Charlie rose up from the bench then dusted some snow off her butt. "I'll head back inside and consume myself with the three munchkins until you come in. Love you," and leaning over, she pressed a soft and lingering kiss onto his black beanie. "You adorable, smol, earthling."

"Geez, don't make me cry, man," Dean brushed the sleeve of Charlie's jacket with his hand and smiled. "Love you too, and thanks for giving me the best advice as always. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably screw up big time, fall down and bruise yourself, but hey," she held out her arms and laughed, her cheeks rosy, "who is Harry without Hermione? Nothing."

After she left him sitting there in silence and studying his phone, Dean welcomed the anxious feeling that settled on his chest all over again. Now that he was alone and surrounded by the likes of nature, the emotions simply began to voice their opinions, in heavy discussion with his heart and mind until those thumbs hovered over the keyboard. And when he finally decided to send a voice note instead, the icy feeling resting in his fingertips and the weakened disposition covered him in uncertainty at first.

"Hey huggy bear," Dean said softly, idly fingering the zipper on his coat, "uh, I'm doing great, actually. Like you said, I've been hanging with the family. Doing a little art with the twins and baby. And Charlie's over here, so I'm pretty much occupied for now. Which means that it's completely not necessary for you to quit your work and come over here." His voice became rustier though from lying. "I'm not going to lie. It sucks not having you here, but it's not like it's for long. In no time you'll be over for dinner or even if you're not able to make it, we'll see each other tomorrow. And don't feel bad about last night. I was just in a zone where I felt crappy about not falling asleep next to you and your scarf helped a lot."

His hands were trembling after ending the message and then taking deep breaths, and being fully aware that saying those things leveled his mind, he continued.

"Of course, I've been thinking about you, man," Dean chuckled and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "Here's to hoping that you don't play this one out loud but there are certain parts of me that miss certain parts of you. Like… _really_ miss it. I literally woke up…so turned on by you in my dreams that it took me more than half an hour in the shower to get over it. And here's something to get you through the rest of your day. I dreamt that I rubbed honey all over my…" Dean felt so lightheaded, his smile was light and eyes glinted, "…you know _where_. And you couldn't stop. You just _couldn't_ stop…fuck," shifting uncomfortably on the bench, he glanced down and highlighted the tent in his jeans that was too evident. "The things you do to me, I swear, I'm going to make you pay for all these damn hours."

Spreading his legs, Dean swallowed hard and stared up at the blue sky, fingers digging into the stone cold bench until he finally realized that taking measured breaths would never dull what was occurring in tormented succession. He couldn't recall the last time he became so hard that just the feel of any kind of movement rubbing on his crotch seemed like he was inching nearer and nearer to release. A layer of wool leggings and then his jeans seemed so burdensome all of a sudden, that he was straining to find some escape and quickly finding the front door, he hastened upstairs, thankful that the living room was spared of everyone who happened to be in the dining area of in the kitchen.

Locking his door, Dean unzipped his jeans and shrugged it down as the discomfort increased, and for the first time in his life, he understood how he could become so consumed by thoughts of Castiel, that there was no denying how his body craved for him. And because he also believed that it was refreshing to play on that moment, to find some kind of satisfaction from his torture caused by the older man, Dean stood before his tall mirror, still in those black wool leggings and he snapped a photo of how definite the bulge was. Then on his way to the small bathroom, in desperate need to relieve himself, he braved it all and sent the image to Castiel.

Half an hour later and John opened up the front door to two smiling faces of no other than Donna and Jody, both of them carrying an armful of something and bundled up in coats.

They were both quite deprived of a visit after so long and spent some time remarking on the cozy interior of the Winchester house that was very much maintained by no other than Dean mostly. To this, a very impressed Jody inquired after Dean and Charlie piped up that he was probably talking to Castiel on the phone. And in that moment, Sam suddenly realized that the pair possibly was never privy to the newfound news, which his father provided immediately.

"Been a couple a good while now," the older man said proudly, as if he was announcing the engagement instead of the relationship. "And you ain't heard this from me but as far as smitten goes, those two are frolicking plenty."

Jody nodded, cheeks pink and she considered Ellen who was beaming at her with a satisfied countenance. "I knew it. I just knew that it would happen and despite Dean talking against it, these things just take time. I'm so proud of him!"

"Right, and when's the wedding?" Donna, hands planted on her hips smiled around. "Give us a heads up when you can. Peachy. Very peachy." She scooped baby Dean into her arms and he screamed from delight after being lifted high in the air.

Having the extended family under one roof on Christmas Eve was such a beautiful experience, one which was treasured year after year. The coziness, of sitting around the fire or dwelling in the kitchen whilst sipping on eggnog and brandy and stealing finger foods like freshly baked tarts, muffins, cake, cookies…Charlie was ecstatic from being included and very soon, she blended in so effortlessly, that Sam attached himself to her likeness and the two of them delved into a game of Checkers.

Ellen, Jess, Jody and Donna entertained a loud conversation from the kitchen about various topics, and John went out onto the back porch with Bobby to knock back a few beers. By the time Dean showed himself, cheeks colored immensely and very much relieved of his prior burdens, he slid onto a chair next to his brother by the table and beamed at them whilst biting his lips.

"Good God, it took you an hour to jerk yourself off blissfully," Sam settled back on his chair and stared incredulously, "you're glowing like a ripe teenager who just lost his virginity."

"Shut up," Dean fidgeted on his chair and turned to consider a wide eyed Charlie who seemed far too impressed by the younger Winchester's ability to determine the truth so easily. "Who's winning the game?"

"Me," Sam sighed and plucked up a King, then he hopped two spaces and munched on his opponent's pieces. "So far, she's beaten me three times and still you couldn't surface from the throes of passion."

"You know, I could really get used to you _not_ talking."

"How boring would _that_ be?" Sam winked and suddenly swiped the board with his arm, knocking all the pieces sideways so that the game ended abruptly. "Let's have a do over," he said to a smiling Charlie, "I like when I let you win."

Dean's phone vibrated again in the pocket of his jeans and still, he refused to check the messages. It had been an hour since he disappeared upstairs and after sending the very deliberate image, he hadn't unlocked his mobile thus far. But the anticipation was so thrilling, conjuring up all the possible responses from Castiel and delaying the moment when he would simply accept defeat. Until now, another message buzzed his pocket and after raking his fingers through his hair, he studied Sam's deliberate raised eyebrows and Charlie's narrowed eyes and Dean sighed.

"Look, it's not like you two don't know how it is, okay? I'm going through this phase that I've never experience before."

"Like a virgin," Sam said softly and teasingly, "touched for the very first time, as Madonna nicely put it. And how would you describe it, Charlie? Go ahead and have a go at it."

"Hmm," she pressed a fingertip to her chin and scrutinized Dean's blushing face, "all I'm getting is this visual where this dude's been out in the desert for so long, and when he finally gets to drink water, he keeps going and going and going…" Sam's guffaw lit up the entire house until his brother buried his face into his arms and shook from laughter too. "And you're right. We've all been there and I'm still there most days. And it's nothing to be ashamed about because our bodies have needs that someone else can take care of, so go ahead and indulge, Dean. Drink as much as you want."

The conversation dulled immediately when Ellen approached with a plate of snacks and attacking the game feverishly again, the three of them pretended to be very much occupied. Until the older woman moved away, then and only then did Sam return to sending a suggestive wink at his brother who melted into his folded arms once more. And Charlie bounced on her seat with excitement because if there was one thing she adored, it was the pangs of love.

Now when Dean did manage to check his messages whilst in the downstairs toilet, he pulled down the seat and sought out the comfort of the soft brown covering that his father favored. And after highlighting four unread and a voice note, he smiled and blushed so deeply that his neck and face grew warmer.

_Dean! Really? How could you send me that?_

_Tormenting me like this?_

_Now I'm very much matching your reaction inside my own pants and thank goodness for sitting at my desk or else my clients would be very much privy to all of it._

_Make me pay from being separated from you today, please._

"I'm running a little late, as I would have liked to be there by six. My clients, it seem," Castiel's voice was very light and his speech quickened from becoming tangled by his soft feelings for Dean, "are very much determined to have a few drinks before leaving so I'm going to be there in an hour. And I have a proposal for you. Would you like to spend tomorrow night with me over here? Can you think about it? I'll be very much open to your refusal if so be the case."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said weakly, his mind becoming dizzy from the prospects of everything those kind of moments would entail. "I'd love that more than anything. Hurry up and come over, okay? All the family's over and whilst they're enjoying it, as I should be, all I want is to be with you. I love you…" And releasing his thumb, he sent the voice note, eyes glistening with tears and being consumed with so much hope and happiness.

Within an hour and a half when the house settled into a crowded gathering of conversations and laughter, with an abundance of food and the twins chasing each other, the four youngest persons sought out a corner and sat on the carpeted floor. Jess cuddled up to her husband, Charlie hugged baby Dean who nestled into her lap and his uncle burrowed himself against the wall as he awaited the sound of knocking on the front door.

They talked about many things that were comfortable enough within that time; Sam explained university life to his brother and what it was like frequenting a campus. He admitted that despite the freedom, most days he simply could not dwell in the happiness of it because the children and Jess were far too important to spend time with. Wishing that he could be home again, and in close proximity with his father and brother, he grew a little emotional at one point and Dean immediately promised that he always missed having him nearby. And Charlie really began to experience a feeling of becoming attached like siblings to the brothers, even Jess who was very quiet but still very much like a sister, asking about her job and the orphanage and Dorothy.

By the time they were all engaged in a heated conversation about the Harry Potter books, a certain someone slipped in when Ellen answered the door. Dressed handsomely in a warm maroon colored long-sleeved sweater and black jeans, Castiel lingered by the doorway in confidence with his dearest friend. And collecting the small duffel bag containing clothes from him, and sparing a soft kiss onto his cheek, she jerked her chin towards the group of young people by the window.

"I slipped your gift under the tree without him noticing. Don't think he's been noticing much all day except hung up on you."

"Thanks," Castiel's arm remained around Ellen, "believe me, I am fully aware of that."

"You thought about how you going to propose to him?" her expression was open and sincere whilst he stared back with a hint of nervousness. "Don't overthink it. Go simple and if you want to do it with just the two of you around, then do that. If you want an audience, then you've got one old year's night. I'll tell you though, he's going to turn on the waterworks when you go down on one knee, so be prepared for that."

"Hey, Cas!" John called out from his chair near the fire, his feet covered in a patterned blanket that Mary stitched up so many years ago. "Bout damn time you showed your face."

Everyone immediately considered the addition to the house and then even as Jody reared her head to study a certain someone's expression, Dean rose up, completely mesmerized and deeply blushing. And he drew nearer to Castiel like a moth to a flame, with a complete disregard for the audience who latched their eyes gradually onto the two coming together.

"Finally," Dean breathed out and softened when the older man reached for him, "the amount of times I've stared at the damn clock, it's annoying."

But Castiel was far too much drowning in green eyes. "Oh, my love," he said softly, his fingertips brushing aside dark blonde hair and curling those strands behind an ear. "My beautiful, precious darling. I've missed you so much and I wish not to be parted from you from tonight until forever."

"Guess sending you that pic really made your day, huh?" a twinkle in green immediately tugged Castiel nearer until Dean's parted lips was collected in a kiss that weakened the younger man's knees immediately. "Mmmm", his eyes fluttered close, heart racing when their connection simply initiated a kind of depth that was so toe curling, that they just could not stop. And stopping at that point would have been such an injustice, because Castiel seemed to desire that kiss so much, he pressed in and wound his arms around Dean's waist. And they fitted so perfectly together, the moment of bliss was heavy enough to erase everyone else except the feeling of their bodies radiating with so much heat and so much comfort.

Everyone at that point was gazing; Jody softened up beside Donna who happened to glance at Charlie pressing her fists to her mouth to hold back a squeal, Sam nuzzled his cheek closer to his wife's own and John…well he settled down with a satisfied grin. Ellen drifted away and stood by the telephone with a very contented smile, and by the time the two lovers pulled apart, gazing at each other deeply and rubbing their noses together, she cleared her throat.

"Don't mean to be a sourpuss but just want to remind you two that we're all watching."

"Makes those scenes from the movies look crappy, if you ask me," Jody waved with a huge smile. "And this makes me so happy, knowing that dreams do come true. Wasn't it just the other day when we were going on and on about what would happen if these two didn't end up together?"

"I said…" Sam, of course, simply needed to join in, "to dad mostly, that if they _didn't_ end up a couple, then we'd have to do what it took to make them become one. So it wasn't an _if_ for me. It was just a means to an end."

"Right you are!" Jody agreed and smiled as the pair approached the cushions on the floor, evidently blushing from their relationship in open discussion. "You know, I can't believe that when we were all in school together, and talking about romances and who Cas would end up with, we never thought that it would be no other than Mary's son. Do you folks realize how beautiful that is?"

"Lizzy Ardent would throw a fit if she came around now and saw her prom date again, I'll tell you _that_ ," Donna piped up with a nod.

"Her and the fifty other wide eyed daisies that pined after his adorable ass," Ellen returned to Jody's side on the couch and they all laughed. "You know, Sheila from Arts was just in the town the other day asking about you, Cas," she turned around and considered her friend sitting next to Dean and tugging the younger man into his arm. "She didn't spend long, was just passing through, but she surely remembered those Saturdays when we used to buy lemonades and sit on the bleachers with Mary and the rest of us gals watching the boys either run laps or play basketball."

"Whilst I was working up a sweat trying to impress Mary by shooting those hoops, Cas was winning every single girl's heart by just running around the damn field in his shorts," John handed Ellen another beer and he knocked bottles with her. "And now he's got my damn son, which is only expected."

Dean pleaded with his brother to sway the conversation away from himself and Castiel and although the younger Winchester was far too enlightened to prolong it, he understood. Very soon, he brought up the topic of Crowley and every single person latched onto that like flies buzzing to a carcass. No updates thus far, except for the withdrawal of the FBI from Littleton but there would be a trial and John wasn't too keen on the outcome of that, knowing already that the game was rigged from the beginning.

"You smell so good," Dean buried his face into the older man's neck and inhaled the scent of lavender and Old Spice. "Cas…" he croaked, parted lips softly kissing warm skin.

"I believe that the merit of eliminating certain crucial parts of books from the movies must be with reason," Castiel nodded at Sam who was fueled by the conversation occurring among their small circle. And in response to Dean, the older man raked his fingers through soft tendrils tilted his head to accommodate the exploration on the nape of his neck. "Think of how longer any Harry Potter film would be if every single thing was included."

"Then make it into a series," Sam shrugged, reached for his glass of brandy and sipped, "always works, take Shadow Hunters for instance. That played off nicely and they've done it before. They've gone all the way with books turning into movies and I just can't understand why it was so necessary to make so many changes…"

"In the end…they were good films," Jess, who hardly spoke up, smiled and was determined to settle the conversation that followed with everyone nodding in agreement. "I just don't like television shows that become so ridiculous that they're still running on television just because."

"She's referring to How To Get Away with Murder," Sam sighed and tipped his head at Charlie who immediately clung to the reference since the two of them were discussing the plot earlier. "Jess is more of a Reign, Gossip Girl and Vampire Diaries kind of fan like Dean. He loves those TV shows that have a lot of good looking people in them. Me? I prefer anything that deals with Law and Politics. Take House of Cards for instance…."

The flow of conversation prolonged until nine when Sam agreed to take Donna, Jody, Charlie and her Harley along home with their dad's pickup truck, and he also promised to drop Ellen and Bobby along the way. Jess retired upstairs to settle the children, baby Dean already slumbering in her arms, and John, after spending the entire day quite exhaustingly engaging in discussions with various people, retired to the upstairs where he would continue watching his Christmas movies on the television in his room.

Castiel and Dean took up residence in front of the fire, the flames crackling around an abundance of logs and with the latter's feet resting onto his lover's thighs, he admired the gold glow of the whiskey in the older man's glass.

They were in each other's confidence after spending three hours otherwise, and immediately when one would expect words to flow like a river, a comfortable silence settled between them. It was so soothing to simply be in each other's company, to experience the assurance of love, that kind of necessary bond and allow such energy to positively smoothen the kinks. Not that Dean was dwelling in his own dissatisfaction from earlier anymore, in fact those insecurities seemed to be long forgotten now that his socked feet were gently massaged. And whilst Castiel slipped off his gloves and slowly kneaded his thumbs into the arch of the younger man's right foot, he sighed.

"I like when we're like this," Dean said quietly, hugging himself and gazing intently at a face that contained the warmest pools of blue eyes. "I like it because it feels so…I don't know…like we're married and we're already used to each other's habits. But I know that there are things we still have to learn. Like which side of the bed do you like sleeping on?"

Castiel smiled warmly and he intimately lifted Dean's foot just to press a soft kiss onto the top. "Without you? Desirably on the left as I've been imagining you sleeping with me for as much as five years. Of course, when you're with me, I'd rather have you in my arms as my pillow…"

"Just don't…suffocate _me_. Then you'd have to live a lonely life with the fact that you killed your soul mate so easily. So go easy on the spooning. And I guess I don't have to ask if you're an early riser because you're up and about at six like clockwork but me? I'm kind of a seven…seven thirty-ish kind of human. Nine on weekends, sometimes ten, depending on if I stay up late reading or watching TV. But I really want to make breakfast for you like as much as I can, so I'd either have to get up earlier or keep you in bed until I'm ready to—"

"Dean," Castiel said in his gravelly tone that curled the other man's toes, "slow down. You're way ahead of me and I'm still trying to digest the bit about your sleeping schedule. Now, why are we even discussing the difference in times? Hmm? It doesn't really matter right now."

"It will," Dean said staring and holding his breath, "especially if I'm going to come right out and say it."

The older man frowned and his massaging fingers ceased moving as those blue eyes studied green ones. "Come right out and say _what_?"

He obviously could not delay the truth and despite his mind protesting that it wasn't the right time, could possibly be too sooner than anticipated, Dean braced himself and nodded. "Uh," he swallowed and then chewed on his lower lip whilst the nervousness overwhelmed him instantly, "so…I was thinking, and it's totally okay if you don't want to. But maybe we could…" No. Don't do it, he thought. Don't highlight what may seem as very much forward and a hasty suggestion for them to spend their nights in each other's beds.

Castiel stared back and his countenance registered nothing but anxiousness as well and he swallowed before replying. "Dean? What are you trying to ask me?"

"You know what? Forget it," the younger man released a sigh, shook his head and smiled at the fire instead. "It's Christmas Eve and I'm damn happy that we're like this. And you know what's even better? Looking forward to seeing your face when I give you your gifts tomorrow. Man, that's going to be epic because you'll never expect them."

"Okay," Castiel said in an uneven tone whilst returning a smile, but it was quite obvious that he was still unsettled from the conversation which never happened. "Likewise." Eyes staring into the fire now, he appeared dazed, completely lost in thought and although the younger man searched his countenance, he couldn't determine anything further than uncertainty.

"It's getting late. Do you want us to walk out now?" Dean tried although his chest ached and he felt like thus far, they weren't able to spend enough time talking to each other. "I could walk you over to your door…"

"No need to," Castiel's tone was softer and he studied the folded red socks on his lap. "I'm staying with you tonight, because I'd like to wake up next to you tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Dean was holding his breath and he only understood why after the little cracks opened up between them. "Of course, it's okay, Cas. I'm freaking thrilled to wake up Christmas morning with you by my side. You know I am. But why do _you_ look so sad about it?"

"I'm not sad…"

"Cas…"

"Dean…" the older man sighed and blinked at the fire where the flames excited embers enough that they danced around like fireflies. "What were you about to ask me? You know that I just can't let things go. I hang on them until there is something that justifies an answer."

Of course he would cling to the beginning of a question that Dean really felt prickly about delving into. It was just Charlie's suggestion that he entertain the idea and after inwardly debating on the boldness, he realized that maybe it wasn't time. Maybe all it would take was for him to mention that they go one step further by invading each other's space for a prolonged period and then Castiel would become uncomfortable about it. Then he would think of Dean as being too needy and weird and he couldn't stomach the look of mild discomfort afterwards. He just couldn't…

"Just simply…maybe you want us to go easy," he decided to say, shrugging and immediately receiving a wounded expression from the older man. "Taking things slow…"

"I don't want to take things slow, Dean."

The response was so sudden that it brushed him with shock. "Okay," green eyes widened a bit, "how fast do you want us to go?"

Castiel's chest heaved and he appeared so unsure of himself in that moment, that Dean really much became consumed by a wealth of worry, enough to force him to sit up. "Do you wish for us to go… _further_ in bed? Is that what you want to ask me? Because I've been thinking about it and…" studying the immediate look of amazement by the younger man, Castiel stopped, worrying that he might have been too forward.

And Dean…

Dean was stunned by their minds completely taking different paths that he sat for a full minute before realizing that if he refused to respond quickly, then his silence would be taken out of context.

"I've been thinking about it too, Cas," he said, chasing the trail of thought like the snowflakes outside. "Would you go there with me if I wanted? If not, then it's totally fine and I don't mind waiting because—"

"I'd go anywhere with you," Castiel said in a tone so soft that the crackle of the fire could have died away his words. And gazing at the younger man, he swallowed. "Don't you get it, Dean? Hmm? I'd do anything for you because of that level of trust we have built between us. And since that one special moment by the pool when you voiced your need to…feel what it's like to…be inside of me….I…" Castiel's voice dipped and he fumbled with the sock between his grasp, cheeks flushing intensely. "I…can't stop. I've been thinking occasionally about that moment, what it would mean for us if we…went _there_ with each other and..."

"It's going to happen," Dean said with certainty, and he collected the older man's nervous hands between his own. "Maybe not now as in tonight, but when we're prepared to do it and I'm glad that you're so open about this. It's a conversation that I kind of wanted to have with you but I was putting it on the back burner until you brought it up. So now that it's already settled and we're both fine with it, when that moment comes…"

When that moment indeed happened, Dean believed that he would possibly explode from happiness, because they would achieve a kind of bliss that their minds might never be able to understand until it happened. Only then would he add substance to the information on blogs about that special bond between two men that could be achieved. It was possible, and once it was, there could only be hope and an eagerness to dream.

"Remember I told you a while ago that Charlie took me to this sex shop downtown?" Dean toed the older man's crotch playfully and unearthed a small squeak that was so adorable, he melted inside.

"I can vaguely recall you mentioning it," Castiel frowned whilst collecting those mischievous, prodding feet and squeezing each and every toe. "I told you that we don't need toys coming between us."

"Yeah, yeah," although he would never admit it, he would open up to exploring those options, but since the older man was rather old fashioned and he adored him for that, Dean embraced the declination. "So, there was a bunch of lube and I kind of bought…two. Which I stashed away deep down under my clothes somewhere, because whenever dad gets in there, he likes to poke around and fix my bed and I warned him a while ago that he might find something he doesn't want to see. Like these red lace panties Lisa once made me wear a couple years ago when we were dating…and I…" his words faltered when Castiel raised both eyebrows and offered an impressed look. "What?"

"She was persuasive enough to make Dean Winchester slip on red lace panties?"

"I liked…it, well…" the younger man shrugged and offered a wide smile, tongue tucked between his teeth, "felt damn good and soft and light, compared to boxers that trap me in here," he gestured towards the front of his pants where blue eyes lowered immediately, "and I kind of felt like a whole new woman."

"Oh, Dean," Castiel shook his head, cheeks flushing and he clicked his tongue, then reaching out, cupped fingers caressed the other man's right cheek. "You may wear whatever makes you feel comfortable once you're with me."

"I go commando during summer…"

"Now you're just teasing me," blue orbs widened. "Really? You're being completely serious with me?" and when Dean nodded, Castiel gasped, "all these years, even whilst we were simply chatting with each other, in close proximity, you were just hanging low?"

Doubling over with laughter immediately afterwards, the younger man sunk his face into Castiel's lap and rolled over onto his side like a baby. And whilst he continued to exert his dignified humor, his hair was gently fondled, fingers raking through soft strands.

"Now, you were telling me about the lube you bought…"

"Right, so…" turning onto his back and invading the other man's lap, Dean kinked his knees and smiled up into a face that was very much intrigued to learn more, "one's supposed to give you this numbing sensation and then it works its way in until there's some kind of anticlimactic finish. The other one is just honey flavored with a cooling sensation."

"Mmmm," the low rumble emanated from Castiel's chest and touched Dean's left arm like a very beautiful vibration. "Thus the substance of your texts to me earlier where you specifically highlighted that you dreamt of me covering you in honey and I just couldn't stop…"

"Your memory is so sharp, man, it's like nothing gets past you, huh?"

"Every time I close my eyes," Castiel achieved just that, and settled back into the chair, "I can still see that image you sent me where you're clearly…outlined in your slacks and very much straining to be released. And I keep…dreaming of what you must taste like…"

"Tonight those dreams might just come through…"

The two of them gazed at each other for such a long time, each second deepening that beautiful connection that by the time Sam rumbled into the house again, their faces were flushed all the way down to their necks. Now Sam wasn't a fool, and he understood the impact the two of them had on each other, so quickly bidding both a good night, he hustled up the staircase and went in search of his wife. And it wasn't a full five minutes later when he heard the soft footfalls on the steps, disappearing into his brother's room, the click of the door and then the sound of the latch.

"Just hope these walls are sound proof," Sam said to a smiling Jess who was cradling Mary, "those two seem to go at it like rabbits and I'm happy for them, I really am," he kicked the mattress on the ground already covered in comfortable sheets. "But I mean, what could they possibly be doing that keeps them going so much? Like how far can two guys go?"

"There's always the internet…" she suggested and turned to rest Mary slowly onto the bed next to Marlene who was always the first to fall asleep and slept through the night whilst her sister would continue to squirm and kick. "I think that if you asked Dean, he would tell you."

"I wonder what it's like to be penetrated…" Sam, lying on his back, hands folded behind his head, frowned at the ceiling. "Must hurt like a bitch but there's always lube…"

"Would you like me to penetrate _you_?" Jess chuckled and stared at her husband who still appeared lost in thought. "I could use my you know what."

"I don't get why you even use _that_ ," he said, laughing in the dark from her ability to always indulge in good humor. "Maybe God should have made ours with the additional feature of vibrating when necessary. Would you consider Dean as gay now that he's hooked on Cas?"

Across the hall, the older Winchester was fantastically latching onto a building crescendo that threatened to blast him wide open on the window seat.

Down on his knees and entwining their fingers together, Castiel was continuously consuming all of Dean with the generous taste of honey soothing his palate. The actuality of experiencing that dream in reality and growing quite fond of it, he was absolutely a fast learner. All the small moans that escalated into soft, hoarse cries when the back of Dean's head hit the window glass were all very much motivation that the older man needed. And with an undying need to taste more and so much more, he picked up the pace, and teased with the swirl of his tongue on the tip of Dean's cock.

Over and over again, his heart leapt inside of his chest, lungs constricting as he choked on the inability to breathe, the world turned upside down and he came with the jerk of his hips, Castiel finally getting exactly what he dreamt of. Taste. Over and over again as Dean shuddered from every single release, squeezing their fingers that were laced together on his thighs and curling into the window seat like a comma. His strained cries bruised his throat until there wasn't any sound emanating from inside of him anymore, but that Castiel completely swallowed him whole and devoured every single thing there was left. And after he sunk weakly into the cushioned seat, the older man cleaned off every trace of honey there was, trailing his tongue slowly and sensually across the inside of Dean's thighs until the younger man's legs trembled from the exploration.

"I don't ever wish to spend another night without you," Castiel said when the two of them were wrapped in each other's arms and under the thickest wool blanket, and from the moment he rid himself of those words, he inhaled deeply and dove a hand between them and into Dean's slacks. "I want _this_ ," he said softly, wrapping his fingers around the younger man's cock, "to be easily accessible to me so that I may gain some satisfaction from its proximity."

The actuality of having their thoughts so easily aligned was something that surprised Dean in ways he never experienced before. Despite what they may consider as their profound bond, their minds were always on different paths, but now to come to terms with goals that were becoming common…Dean became consumed with a kind of satisfaction and bliss which softened his mind and heart.

"Cas…I like when you talk dirty to me in your Charlotte Bronte accent."

"Hmm?" the older man buried his face into the nape of Dean's neck and drowned in the scent of Irish Spring, "thou is pleased with thy lover's speeches?"

"Okay, Romeo, how was your first blowjob?"

"Very…different from what I expected, but in a good way because I never imagined what you would have smelled like until I was consumed by your body wash and the soft hint of Downy from your clothes. It was like inhaling a fresh garden on a summer's day."

"Don't forget the honey…"

"Very delectable addition to the meal," Castiel hummed in satisfaction and slowly fondled Dean in his slacks, fingers brushing up and down the younger man's shaft. "And my earlier request? That we never spend a night away from each other again? What do you think?"

"Well…the stars are freaking aligned tonight, believe me…" spreading his legs for Castiel to gain better access, and allowing those fingers to work their magic, Dean melted like butter. "I'd like nothing better than that, huggy bear."

"I know that you're very worried about leaving your father," the older man said quickly, "and…he understands your doubts about such but we could make this work. You could...we could…alternate and develop a routine where I would spend more nights with you here. Dean, I couldn't sleep last night without you. I really couldn't do it and…I apologize for being like this but…" Castiel's voice cracked severely and he entwined their fingers as his eyes filled with tears. "I've never been privy to feeling so intensely about someone else and I understand most certainly now when you begged me to stay last night."

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Dean said, trembling from happiness that he finally found someone who would want the same things he desired without feeling too desperate. "It's pretty quick…jumping into it like this but if we're going to spend the rest of our lives with each other, shouldn't we start getting used to being in each other's spaces? Might take a few years for us to reach that point where you decide that I’m really marriage material but in the meantime, we could try this out, right?"

Castiel nodded slowly and offered a smile, at the same time wondering why Dean believed that a few years would suffice to convince him that the two of them getting married was a definite thing. "Yes, we can. Dean, can I ask you something that I require your most honest response?"

"Sure," the younger man's countenance was open and somewhat anxious. "Since we're digging deeper tonight, let's keep going."

"Are you certain that you'd like us to get married to each other?" Castiel was holding his breath because he was far ahead of those thoughts.

Dean on the other hand, considered him with hopeful eyes. "Isn't that obvious to you?" he squeezed the older man's fingers between his own. "You think that I'm doing all of this with any thought in my mind of letting you go? Jesus, Cas, don't cry…" Dean wrapped his arms around the older man who was reduced to tears by then. "Go soft on me like you always do but don't cry. I hate when you cry because then I feel like I've done something to hurt you and I'd never hurt you. I just want to love you until I don't exist on the face of the earth anymore. I want to be with you and grow old with you like Westlife once said."

"Dean…" Castiel croaked, melting into the younger man's embrace and completely dissolving into a softness that he seldom experienced.

He was always the composed one, growing accustomed to maintaining his role as a guardian who could never show any signs of weakness in order to raise Dean the right way. Until now, he couldn't maintain that composure because the man he was desperately in love with, wouldn't stop loving him back in the most beautiful ways.

"I've been married to you from the day I came into this world," Dean said softly as he drifted into a deep slumber. "It's like God created me for you, in ways we only start knowing about now and you know what's amazing?"

Castiel squeezed the younger man into an embrace that was very protective. "What, sweetheart?"

"You just keep proving to me that I'm worth it. That I could have my own someone, no matter how things go sideways because I'm still learning. You never give up on me. And I just want to say thank you for doing that. Thank you for never giving up when I get emotional and clingy and needy and I cry and get soppy and mushy like a girl."

"You're not like a girl," Castiel said quietly, "or else I'd fall in love with a girl. And I don’t want a girl or a woman. I want a man. And that man is you."

They kissed in the dark, searching each other's mouths deeply with their tongues, until cold fingers curled around ears and caressed cheeks and their legs tangled. Then and only then did Dean bite Castiel's bottom lip and pulled, his green eyes standing out in the shadowed room and gazing into blue ones. And after the two of them went in again for another kiss, Dean rolled onto the older man, and buried his face into the crook of Castiel's right shoulder. And then he fell asleep blissfully, sheltered in the arms of his _lover._


	18. Chapter 18

**Excerpt:**

> _People favored speeches on love being the most fleeting feeling of all, falling and sinking your toes into the emotions that were supposed to resemble rainbows and fluff. But what about the hardships? The struggles and fights? The insecurities? What about the parts of the book when you quarreled and threatened to walk away, when you cried endlessly and feared the worse?_

* * *

When Castiel stirred the following morning at precisely six thirty, he wasn't prepared for the sight of Dean sitting by the foot of the bed. Still dressed in his purple silk pajamas and grinning from ear to ear, he jerked his chin at something else. The older man, still groggy, scrubbed sleepy blue eyes with the heels of his palms and then tried to pinpoint what it was. And when he noticed the two gifts sitting on the tousled purple sheets, he could only stare at first.

"Merry Christmas, babe," Dean said in a light tone, quite giddy from the feeling of being absolutely in love. "I'm so soft right now so let me have my moment," he said hugging himself and gazing into pools of blue, "it's a gift waking up with you like this…our first Christmas as a couple! Can you believe it?"

Castiel sat up and his disheveled hair gave him the appearance of the aftermath of a heavy night of lovemaking, even his shirt was unbuttoned. "Merry Christmas, and no, I really can never stop feeling as if I'm dreaming. But _this_?" Castiel lightly touched the larger gift wrapped in bright shiny red paper and covered in bee and cat stickers. "I'm quite excited to know what you've gotten me. May I open them?"

"Of course!" Dean plopped onto his stomach, and appeared like a kid on Christmas morning, who was about to open a variety of gifts. "Go for it. Anyone first. Preferably the bigger one." And cupping his chin on both palms, elbows digging into the bed, he sighed dreamily.

Castiel rather much debated on which gift to open up first, until he settled on the one the younger man suggested, and neatly peeling away the paper, Dean's anticipation only grew more than his own. Until the hint of a blue box peeped through the torn wrapping and becoming consumed by a playful wave of pleasure, Castiel tugged the rest away quickly. The two of them laughed gaily afterwards and whilst light snow floated onto the windowsill, the first gift was revealed; a set containing two wax candles of cappuccino and honey scents, followed by a bottle of shower gel scented honey, lavender and pomegranate. The only other item that seemed to hold Castiel's attention though was the massage oil, scented with chamomile and honey and promising a soothing sensation.

"Might I expect your willingness to use this on me?" the older man gazed fondly at Dean and blinked slowly from absolute admiration. "Especially after I've spent nine or more hours sitting in a chair and sorting out people's finances?"

"Hell yes. I'll work out all those kinks in your back and then I'll move further down south…"

"I cannot wait…" Castiel tilted his head and smiled before moving onto the second box, a little smaller and rectangular in shape. And after he unwrapped it, Dean held his breath whilst the lid was pulled away. "Scented oils!" the older man's countenance lit up and immediately he pried one of the slender bottles from the case. "I've always wanted to try these. Thank you so much, Dean, these are very lovely."

"Each one," the younger man said softly, his chest filling with contentment as he reached for another bottle in the box, "is for a different purpose. Like this one right here? It's for when you're bombarded with work and can't seem to focus. I've used it before countless times. And the nutmeg smell might throw you off at first but after it sinks in, your mind just relaxes until you're levelled again. This one…" he pointed at a baby blue label, "is for your migraines that come once and a while; bit of peppermint mixed with chamomile just like the massage oil. And I know you swear by peppermint for every damn ailment."

"Yes," Castiel said, unscrewing the cap and sniffing the fresh scents, "yes I do believe in scents soothing most things like your remarkable Irish Spring that has been driving me crazy all these years."

Dean laughed softly as he balled up the paper and tossed them into the bin by the door, aiming perfectly as always and gratifying himself from the fact that he still could after all the years when Sammy beat him every single time.

"Cas, can I ask you something? I know I might come off as extra weird right now, but it's the first thought that I woke up to. You know, seeing your face from the moment I opened my eyes." Dean sat up and stretched out his legs beside the other man's right thigh.

"Of course, ask away…" Castiel said, holding his breath from the suspense because it wasn't as if they kept walking on eggshells; it was just the anxiousness that arose from the depth of their conversations. And most times, he thought that one small disagreement might cause him to lose Dean forever.

"So, okay, was there this one time where you just looked at me and thought…damn, he's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with?"

The fast patter of feet outside the door signaled that the baby was up and being chased by either Sam or Jess. John's voice rumbled from downstairs, because he rose before the sun and the smell of coffee wafted through the creases.

"There was, Dean," Castiel said quietly while his cheeks tinged pink and those graceful fingers toyed with the bottles of oil. His blue eyes lowered to consider his gifts. "It happened so suddenly. It was a Sunday, about two years ago if I can recall correctly. I was sitting in the front yard and you were washing your car. As usual. And…I just thought that maybe _this_ could be my normal. Maybe I could have you…just…as much as you'd allow. And possibly when you moved on to have a wife and I a lonely bachelor, I would still _have_ you as my companion who I could spend time with. Be with. Talk to. I didn't know, obviously," the older man chuckled, "that there would ever be more, and my epiphany feels so flimsy now compared to what has happened."

Dean nodded slowly and tried to hold the tears at bay because if he cried, Castiel would and it wasn't the best thing to begin Christmas day with. So instead of allowing them to linger in that moment, he crawled closer on all fours, pushed the gifts away and grinned from ear to ear when the older man sunk back into the rumpled pillows. Those blue eyes were wide, searching and with so much depth, and when they kissed, both of them moaned low and throaty. Until they were depriving each other of their pajamas, tossing those aside and tasting inches of skin.

"Wait, I have a gift for you," Castiel said in an uneven tone, already being deeply affected by their bodies becoming entwined, "one of many, wait—"

Dean hummed and pressed in to deepen the kiss that curled the older man's toes. "Bet you do," he grinned and locked their lips together, tasting and savoring exactly what he wanted so early in the morning. "Your body is the best gift I could ever have."

"Check…" the older man was breathless already, inching their mouths apart and gazing into green eyes as he tasted minty toothpaste, "check in my pocket."

"Or do you mean your pants…"

"Deann…" Castiel smiled as their lips kept savoring kisses that broke apart after every second. "Please…" his desperate need to embrace defeat though, to allow their lips to meet was so heavy that he became lost in his feelings. “Sweetheart…”

That nickname would always soften him to the core, until he was helpless and sinking into so much love that nothing could ever penetrate their bubble.

Elbows digging into the sheet on either side of Castiel's head, Dean complied whilst resting their foreheads together and drowning. Pawing at those muscular thighs, he patted down the black slacks and discovered that there was a pocket, one of two most likely. And carding his hand into the small space, his fingers immediately brushed something quite small and with a most definite shape.

"Cas?" he brought the silver key between them and stared at it, wondering what it may unlock. "This opens your heart? Because I thought I’m already in there…"

"No," Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean's own and both of them studied the small gift that held no significant meaning in that moment. "Try again."

What in the world could it open though? His mind was so much clouded by desire that he searched blue orbs only to discover a kind of warmth which was toe curling. So much warmth which meant that the purpose of the gift was to provide exactly that and security, when he felt strong arms wrap around him. Until Dean simply could not focus on anything other than those parted lips teasing him into a kiss, that he brushed their mouths together. And when he did, Castiel mewled softly before raking his fingers through dark blonde hair.

"It's a key to my apartment within the mansion which I hope that you may wish to use as often as you like…Dean…"

"Cas! Are you…" staring, bewildered… "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I don't mind you touching my things, unlike my brother who is very much not fond of privacy. You are the only exception." The older man lost his breath when kisses rained down his face; his forehead first, then the tip of his nose, followed by one on each cheek.

Most of all, Dean favored the older man's neck, delighting himself in sucking on the weak spot right below Castiel's right ear as he reached between them and tugged down their slacks. Very soon, they were deprived of those and left with nothing on but their socks whilst the sheets twisted and their fingers entwined and as Dean moved slowly, grinding their hips together, Castiel lost himself. Those blue eyes became listless, focused on the ceiling and lips parted enough so that the younger man kissed them tenderly. And with their cocks slotted together, he weakly sat up, thighs clamping the older man's hips between them, and he slowly began to roll a rhythm that was too blissful for silence.

The moans that escaped from within his throat were hoarse and eventually turned into definite cries from pleasure that filled the space like music. And Castiel couldn't keep his hands off of him, fingers digging into Dean's hips to bring them closer together, so close that tears burned the older man's eyes. Tears from contentment and pleasure that forced Castiel to rise up from the bed and collect Dean into his arms and with their legs wrapped around each other, they moved until the creaking of the bed became melodic. Until they buried their faces into each other's necks and tried to muffle their moans when bliss took on the form of release over and over again.

When Castiel did manage to come down back to earth though, he gathered Dean into his arms and carried him into a warm shower and from there, the two of them continued to make love under the spray of water. They were so passionate, so needy that nothing stopped their flow of kisses and reaching of arms, until Dean was so weak that he clung to Castiel as the water cascaded onto their bodies wrapped together. And swaying under the water, trying to steady their spinning minds, they both savored the feeling of having the best thing happen to them despite the many years behind spent not knowing what was to come.

By the time Castiel did emerge from the shower ten minutes after Dean though, towel wrapped around his waist, he came face to face with a large stuffed bee dressed in a trench coat, sitting right next to his duffel bag. A small gasp drifted from his lips, and slowly, he approached the most amazing thing he had seen in such a long time whilst the younger man pawed around for something nice to wear and chuckled quite guiltily.

"Where on earth did you find _this_? Dean!" snatching the stuffed animal, Castiel squished it into his arms and those blue eyes fluttered close. It was so soft, very much adorable and reeked of honey and vanilla scents. "I absolutely love it!" and after carefully resting his gift onto the bed, he rushed into Dean's space and pulled him into a deep kiss that left the younger man breathless.

"Fuck," green eyes became dazed, especially when their towels dropped to the floor and brought them so close together again. The heat that pooled around their waists was ecstatic and only grew more intense as seconds were eaten up. "Dammit, Cas, you're just going to make me reach in there for that lube and take you right there on the bed with the way things are going. You're driving me insane. Jesus."

"Do we have to go downstairs?" Castiel clung to the younger man and wrapped his arms tighter, face buried into dark blonde hair still wet and drowning in the scent of watermelon shampoo and the famous signature scent of Dean Winchester; his Irish Spring body wash. "I want to make love to you all day long."

"At some point we'd need to fuel up…" feeling his earlobe being taken between daring teeth and chewed on, Dean moaned whilst rubbing their faces together. "I just love the way you keep finding all my weak spots, man. Keep going and I'll start off on round two with you."

Castiel lowered his hands onto the younger man's hips and he trailed kisses all the way from Dean's jawline to his lips that welcomed a deep and passionate kiss.

When they did emerge downstairs, the unwrapping of gifts had just begun, with the twins squirming around in papers of all colors and the baby crawling around the bottom of the tree. Sam was comfortably sitting on the couch, Jess settled on his lap and the two of them appeared so contented whilst sipping on coffee. When Castiel found a chair and lowered himself into it, with guilty satisfaction he pulled Dean onto his lap and green eyes sparkled from the gesture.

"See what I'm talking about?" Sam said to his wife with a small smile, "they're just mellow."

"They're still falling in love," Jess said warmly, "let them go through it. Don't you remember how it was for us too? We couldn't stop…and now as I'm seeing what it's like and I'm remembering those days, I just want to quit my job and get a sitter for the kids and go away with you somewhere."

"Fiji's nice," Sam said as Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's neck and gingerly rubbed their cheeks together, "we could make it a double honeymoon trip and bring those two along. What do you think, Cas? Up for extended alone time with my brother or what?"

"Maybe I just might take you up on that offer," the older man cradled Dean's face onto his neck and entwined their fingers. "How about we take Bobby and Ellen along and John as well, with the hopes of finding a special someone for him."

"Now you've just ruined it, man," Sam grimaced and turned to glare at the fire whilst Jess, Dean and Castiel laughed heartily. "You!" he suddenly pointed at his brother with a scowl, "dive under the tree and open those gifts with your names on them or else I'll claim all."

Such a warning didn't require much persuasion and springing up from the older man's lap, Dean crawled on his knees and tickled the twins generously before moving onto the little squirming infant. When the baby was ravished with kisses and giggled until there were tears in those emerald eyes, Dean moved onto the boxes and gift bags under the tree. And it was normal for there to be many of those, because every single time the extended family discovered something worthy of putting into a box, they included all until the pile grew and grew.

There _were_ about six gifts seated on the red skirt that bore his name on the cards, and the first one he plucked up was a green gift bag, compliments of Ellen and Bobby. Now baby Dean was so eager to plant himself in the middle of everything, that he tumbled into his uncle's lap and plopped onto his back, legs and arms waving wildly. So, the older Winchester naturally focused all his attention on his nephew by poking his nose and cheeks softly. And everyone gazed from their places with loving eyes, especially Castiel whose heart melted from witnessing once again, Dean's naturally comfortable behavior around children.

"Soon, Cas," Sam said as if reading the older man's mind, "I can help you kick off the paperwork and then get a rush on things. And since you're always wealthy and have that place of your own that can fit a football team inside, the adoption agency wouldn't have any reason to turn it down."

"Huh?" Dean suddenly stared up at his brother's beaming face whilst fixing the baby's yellow jumper. "What are we talking about now?" He pried open the top of the gift bag and pushed his hand into the mouth, feeling around until his fingers brushed something quite soft.

"I'm talking to your husband, not you," Sam said, curling his fingers into Jess' blonde hair and she laughed along with him. "I think you two should wait. Give it at least two years and all for good reason. Spending time together without the distraction is better after marriage and it's not like they're that bad..." he gazed fondly at his trio, "it's just that screwing each other all over the house might not be able to work when you have one of these crawling around."

By that time, Dean was already smiling at the fluffy chocolate brown house slippers Ellen gifted him in the perfect size but after the mention of kids, he zoned in on the conversation whilst reaching for another box under the tree.

"We'd have to discuss that first," Castiel gazed fondly at his other half and drowned in those huge green eyes, "ah, you've selected one of mine," he folded his arms and appeared quite contented at his ability to wrap something to perfection. "Go ahead and reveal the contents."

Clearing his thoughts, Dean shook the box and heard no rattling so smiling widely, he quickly peeled off the tag decorated with a cat paw print and read the simple but deep sentence that weakened his heart.

There is no ME without YOU.

To: my adorable alien

From: E.T

"Really, Cas?" Dean threw back his head and laughed until Sam couldn't stand the suspense, so he reached out and snatched the tag. And after reading it, the smile plastered on his face mirrored his brother's own. "Now let's see what else you've got me, apart from a house."

"Wait, what?" the younger Winchester choked on a gasp and sat up, almost upending Jess from his lap. "Good God, you don’t waste time, Cas!"

"Just the key to my apartment," the older man said and followed with a soft sigh, "he's being dramatic. The house isn't even mine. It belongs to my brother and me, and unless he sells his share and I buy it over, then the deal is settled. Which I suspect will occur eventually since Balthazar has prospects of settling in Canada. Do you like?" this, he directed to a very blushing Dean who was slowly unfolding one out of four pairs of soft pajamas. "No harsh chemicals involved in the making of those. I've checked and they're very breathable."

"Damn right I love them. Pizza is my favorite food."

"And judging from the other one, I can see hotdogs," Jess said, reaching for Marlene and pulling her into their laps whilst Sam adjusted his position on the chair. "And is that Olaf and Scooby Doo?"

Almost immediately, Dean glanced around cautiously at Mary by his feet and the baby, then he picked up the pile of clothes and protectively hugged them. "No one," he said seriously, "absolutely _no one_ touches these. They're mine. All mine. Hey!" his niece snatched the leg of the Olaf pajamas and tugged at it. "I will fight wars for that snowman, you hear me?"

"Naturally, I would have just bought him the Taylor Swift ones," Castiel said earnestly to Sam and Jess, "but I wouldn't want her coming between us in bed…very much would prefer an animated character and food. Not that I have a dominant jealous streak, but something's there."

Sometimes the wind howled through the cracks and crevices in the old mansion, whistling down the chimney and spreading the flames until the logs crackled even more. At times, the coats on the rack danced from being kissed generously by the breeze, but all the windows remained sealed shut except for the drawn curtains. And occasionally, the water cooler would bubble almost as if someone was slowly drawing water from it, which always mortified Dean whenever he was alone at home.

"Kind of reminds me when Jess couldn’t stand my Celine Dion graphic t's," Sam raked his fingers through fabulous silky locks and grinned. "She kept tossing them in the washer so that the image would fade fast."

"He wore those every damn time they came out of the laundry!" his wife lamented, "over and over again, and I blame you for that," she gestured at Dean who was tucking the box of clothes aside and handing a large rectangular one each to Marlene and Mary who returned to the carpet. "You shouldn't have fed his obsession so much."

"Six Christmases ago, man. Didn't know he'd still keep those around. That's from your uncle Deano," he proudly beamed at their enthusiastic expressions whilst they ripped away the pink paper.

The revealing of the Elsa and Anna colorful windmills unearthed squeals that lasted throughout the house after they sprang up and chased each other. John, on his way in from the kitchen, sidestepped the two of them hustling to the closed backdoor and he laughed gaily.

"All the best, Cas," the older man shook hands with his childhood friend and smiled warmly. "You're permanently family now, so no chance of losing you. Right Dean?"

"Why do you keep thinking that I'll ever let him go?" his son inquired from the tree where he was quietly fixing a few ornaments of Santa Clause neatly into the branches. "I'm not going to. He's stuck with me for as long as." Castiel winked at the younger man and gingerly chewed on his bottom lip, feet crossed and hands folded in his lap.

A soft rapping on the door brought Sam to his feet and after he left, John picked up the baby and twirled him around the living room. Then when Charlie presented herself, refreshed and glowing, decked out in bright red slacks coupled with a blouse of the same color plastered with reindeers and Santa, the entire household was wrapped in hugs. Dean's own possibly lasted a full minute, to which she kept relating over and over to him how special he was in regard to their friendship. There were things that never quite unsettled her but being apart from him did because she grew to rely on someone who genuinely cared and only wished the best. And Castiel followed shortly, if not for her long-forgotten crush, him being there when she needed someone to listen would never be forgotten.

"Sadly, I came to yank Dean away for an emergency," she announced to the room, and then her eyes rested on the tree with its warm glow and promising memories for a family that was so closely knit. "The van broke down yesterday whilst we were delivering stuff around town and we never finished off Elmer's in the mountains. So right now, there are about twelve hampers remaining and it would be so nice to get them out today," her clasped hands accompanied a pleading look in Dean's direction. "If you're not up for it, I'll have to ask Donna or Jody and—"

"Course I'll do it," eagerly nodding his head, Charlie's life saver dusted his hands by the fire and offered nothing but a sympathetic countenance. "Not fair being here and knowing that the people who need help the most can't even get it on Christmas day. Give me ten let me change off into something warmer." And without awaiting any responses, he darted up the staircase, leaving a pair of blue eyes trailing after every step.

"I'm so sorry," Charlie thought it was necessary to apologize to the family seated around the fire, "I really am and I know that this is the time when you guys get together and talk and open gifts but—"

"It's no bother—"

"There's no other way!"

"Take his ass out of here," Sam finished off the round of replies with a contented fold of his arms, "the one thing he needs is to get out the house and be among other people. He used to do it before, but that feels like so damn long ago."

"I'll make sure he stays warm and he checks in with you," Charlie said, mostly to Castiel who appearing mildly saddened from the thought of being separated from Dean on a special day such as Christmas. "I’ll check to make sure that his phone is charged and we wouldn't do anything stupid, I promise."

"He's in good hands," the older man said despite his feelings in regards to his selfish needs, because whatever he may be feeling at that point, nothing could override the necessary charitable event. Maybe a better suggestion would have been to accompany the two, but in all respects, his willingness might come across as too protective as a partner and he wished not to display such a thing in front of the family.

When Dean returned downstairs, he was bulkier in layers of clothing, socks and a red beanie and pushing on his glasses after adjusting a scarf of the same color, his first stop was to deposit a soft kiss onto Castiel's lips.

"Don't miss me, Lois," he said softly so that the rest of the room wouldn't hear, although they were all gazing fondly at the pair, "your Superman needs to save the day, okay?"

"Stay safe, and don't…" Castiel tugged Dean down to rest his lips onto the shell of the younger man's ear, "stay out in the snow too much. Don't go near the cliffs. Don't walk on ice. Don't _drive_ on ice or dangerous paths. Don't place yourself in harm's way."

"I wouldn't because I want to grow old with you, huggy bear. Remember?" green eyes sparkled whilst blue ones softened tremendously. "Now relax and be among family. This is your home as much as mine."

When he drove off in the truck with Charlie, the hampers resting under a dark blue tarp, she couldn't stop gazing at him. Her fondness for Dean was a little too deep, especially when she literally watched him evolve from a man who wasn't aware of his feelings to someone who bloomed whilst embracing something so new. Something so challenging…it could have been far worse to grow up in a family which was not accepting, but Dean only was surrounded by love. And although Charlie didn't experience harsh judgment from the nuns despite her fear of such a painful thing occurring, she still understood that their situations could have been a lot more difficult.

"How are things going with you and Cas?" she asked when the path taken behind the Novak's estate led down a road that was cleared of snow and salted already.

Dean felt lightheaded from driving with a purpose because he didn't have a mission to aid those who needed help the most in a long time. "It's _going_."

Charlie studied his soft smile and gasped. "Oh my freaking god. You two are screwing each other every chance you get, huh?"

"Like I said," he shook his head and chuckled, "it's going. And weren’t you the one who said that I should satisfy certain _needs_? Well, that's exactly what I'm doing; trying to compensate for the last five years."

"I'm not even going to ask how far you two have gone because that's private but just don't become a sex addict."

"Can't make those promises, man. His body is wonderland. And honestly," Dean turned to consider her stunned countenance, "I would have never thought…like _never…_ that another dude's body would be such a turn on for me. I mean, I'm sure you can relate when you find it so damn mesmerizing how someone else responds to you. Like…you know…when you're _there_ and it's like…man, I'm just being weird."

"No, it's totally groovy!" Charlie sat up and provided a wide smile, "come on, you can tell me anything and you know it wouldn't weird me out. Tell me what it's like."

"I've never been with someone that liked what I was doing to them so much that they kind of lose themselves," Dean said, a little nervous from expounding but a little relieved that he could trust someone enough to. "He's just so _into_ me that no matter what I do, I always get some kind of reaction from him. Like this morning we were kissing, right? And every single time I went in for another one, Cas just…" Dean's cheeks flushed and he gripped the steering wheel whilst smiling at the road ahead where frosted trees lined their path. "He mewled."

"Aww! Like a kitty?" her green eyes widened and became sparkly and despite her decision to avoid becoming too invasive, she wished to learn more.

"Right?" Possibly the best part of their conversations was knowing that nothing would escape because of their trust and despite his issues before on whether to let anyone in besides the man he was now entangled with, Dean realized that Charlie would never break that oath.

"Dorothy likes my left boob more than my right, and I have no idea why but it's kind of a melting moment for me. And I think I told you this before, but she just lets me take the top now and I'm really comfortable with that kind of trust."

"Cas does the same thing. He just gives over the reins to me and I really _am_ just fishing in the dark most times, but we get stuff done. And I try to pace myself, I really do but when my hands get on him, it's like there's no turning back. Well, until we realize that we could do more but maybe it's just not the right time."

Charlie frowned as the truck approached the clutter of cottages that sat in odd positions beside the mountains. "You're talking about going all the way…" when he nodded, a small sigh escaped through her lips. "It's not like you don't have lube. That works and it's a whole other level for guys apparently. But prepping is the most important thing; mentally, physically…There," she gestured at a small brown house with dingy carpets hung on the wooden fence and Dean slowed down to park in front. "Going there with him is going to be a huge thing for both of you," she said after he killed the engine and they sat there studying the front yard where two kids built snowmen. "And I mean _huge_ , Dean. Like, based on what Terry told me, he's this gay teacher that eats lunch with me at the school, and he's very willing to share most times, which I don't mind because I like the company."

"What was it like for him?" Dean settled into the seat after unbuckling his seatbelt and he turned to consider her face with a little fear intermingled with anxiousness. "The internet is shitty when it comes to handing out the truth so…I know it's painful but…"

"He said people don't realize that the back isn't like the vagina and they stick things in without taking their time. And it hurts when you don't take your time."

"Wow, uh…very…thoughtful of Terry to be so generous in his details," Dean swallowed but managed a smile, because if there was one thing that terrified him, it was the actuality of pushing a little further with Castiel and then because of being inexperienced, failing along the way.

"Lots of lube, and patience," Charlie patted his arm with a thoughtful look before pushing open her door, and she left her friend very much lost in thought until the glint of the tarp caught the rearview mirror.

Dean understood that he wanted to experience that moment with Castiel, but he also was skeptical about how much time needed to elapse before they took that step. It was like being a teenager all over again and anxious about his first time, inexperienced and very much afraid of screwing things up.

Despite the fact that love extended beyond what happened between them in terms of sex, he was still very much aware that Castiel was as intrigued and desperate to discover that other level. And why wouldn't he be? The guy had a wealth of time where his imagination possibly wandered over the years behind and up to that point, he was far too willing to taste that new moment.

All thoughts of sex were erased when Dean stepped into the small cottage after Charlie and the interior greeted him like the death of a loved one. In all manner of speaking, there couldn't be anything more hurtful than to experience the kind of homes people built to accommodate their families which were very satisfying to them but for someone like Dean…

After growing up in a home that was adequately provided for, clean and spacious, deprived of sickness and rodents, and lice and the heavy smell of unwashed clothes, he was braced with the harsh reality like a tsunami. And just for a while, he stood awkwardly observing Charlie tend to the frail old woman moving through a coughing fit on a urine soaked bed until his heart leapt out, eager to assist.

Immediately, he busied himself in any way necessary, putting a kettle on and making light conversation with Mrs. Thompson's daughter-in-law who was only eighteen and heavily pregnant. Very frail she was also, and already the mother of two small children who ran around literally wearing rags but very giddy with happiness from the small juice boxes handed over to them from the hamper. Teabags, as simple as such an item was, seemed to be a luxury to Anna, the young girl whose eyes lit up when she highlighted the box of one hundred and as he prepared a cup for her mother-in-law, he also handed one over to her.

"You're an angel," she said weakly, patting his arm fondly and displaying lines on her young face from fatigue. "I could tell from your eyes that you've got a good heart. And now that I met a man like you, I know that good men exist. My husband," her face changed into a grimace when he turned off the kettle, "is a monster. He works down at the mills and spends his money on alcohol."

"How could he not care?" Dean thought out loud, and in response, Anna sighed. "A guy is supposed to care about his family. It's what we're told to do."

"Not Malt. He shows he cares by beating them kids and then using that same hand on me. And it's not like I wants to stay here," she noticed the flash of anger in his green eyes and frowned deeply. "I'm staying cause of Angie," jerking her chin into the other room where Charlie was changing the linens, Anna smiled. "As best as I could help her, I try. I'm all she's got and she's all I got and until she goes, I'll stay here and take all the beating and the bad times."

Dean returned to the old woman's side with the cup of tea and despite her weakened state, she was quite a humorous old woman who immediately took a liking to his character. Delving into how Dean's face reminded her of a lover she entertained in Louisiana, how her husband moved them to Littleton because of her inability to keep her knickers on. By the time the jokes left joyful tears in their eyes, he was sad to leave and promised that they would return some other time.

Five houses more and Dean could literally feel his chest exploding from so many conflicting emotions hammering away all at once. The injustice of families broken by sibling rivalry, alcohol, drugs and death. The income of one member of the family having to maintain an entire house of six. The early promise of death for a woman who was losing her husband because of cancer and there was nothing she could do to save him, nor could she escape the faith of having to work two jobs to tend to their three children. And by the time he accompanied Charlie into the last house, Dean was on the verge of tears, heavily burdened by his own life compared to those of others and feeling like a failure in so many ways.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Sally, the eldest of six sisters living under a roof without parents but only a grandmother pleaded to Dean, "but since you and your friend are teachers, can you help to bring back the free biscuits and milk they used to share out in school in the mornings? Most days all we got is scraps and these lot don't eat them stale breads," she studied her youngest sister sorting out the items from the hamper, barely seven and already very smart and helpful. "They used to do sandwiches for lunch too."

"I'll definitely have a go at it," Dean said softly, handing over an apple to the ten year old who clung to his arm as if she was desperate for a friend. "Actually I'm not a teacher as yet. But I'm on my way to becoming one."

"You're going to make a good one," Sally said with a warm countenance. "You got that look about you that says you've got a lot of love to give and most kids need that. Around these parts, people ain't rich. More than half of Fanny's class live around here and the other half is from the orphanage. Simple thing as exercise books," she said frowning, taking the apple from her sister and slicing it into small pieces. "The church stopped donating. Father Crowley wasn't no father. He was the spawn of Satan and it's why most of us lost religion a long time ago. We weren't going to walk down them lanes to church run by the devil. You got kids?"

Shaking his head, Dean could taste bitter bile from the thoughts of the man in question. "Nah, not as yet. Hoping to someday though.

"Your wife should be proud of you. You'll make a good father and you've got to be a damn good husband."

All he could do was smile in return, because as quickly as his tongue wished to admit the truth, he was far too aware of the repercussion of deviating from the norm. People were quick to judge, and always would be and maybe it might take some time growing accustomed to the darkened stares after admitting he was in a relationship with a man. But he would be prepared to divulge that information freely soon and he wouldn't care what they thought about him.

"So, I'm kind of nervous," he said when the truck was back in the Winchester back yard and the tarp lying in a neat pile in the tray. "Well not kind of but _very_ nervous about going all the way with Cas. I'm just going to come right out and say it because I know that you wouldn't be judgy."

Charlie, elbow resting on the door, turned to offer a sympathetic look because she understood immediately the topic which imposed on her friend's mental state. "Don't be, okay? Don't overthink it because when the time comes, you'll get so consumed by the foreplay that by the time you're ready to…go into full combat, it'll be too pleasurable that anything else."

"Yeah but suppose I hurt _him_? Suppose I do something wrong and we can't move on from that and—"

"Dean, come on. Chillax. Breathe. You two are meant for each other and your bodies will adjust to fit your dicks in those places too. And don't give me that look," she said after he stared at her incredulously, "you _know_ how I can get. You know that I don't hold back and besides…plenty of guys have done it, okay? You're going to be okay. How much do you have in inches by the way?"

"Like I’m going to even tell _you_ that," Dean nervously laughed and turned to glance out the window but when her stare remained and those fists curled into an anticipated attack like the fierce little sister she was, he swallowed hard. "Six tops. I'm not proud but Cas likes it." He could have been exaggerating because he never really used a ruler but he felt contented and that mattered more than anything else.

"Good, so if he likes it then what's the problem? It's more than enough to fit and if you took the time to work on biology sometimes, especially your own anatomy, you would realize that six inches isn't going to be impossible. The maximum is about eight inches but even _that_ is sketchy according to what people have pushed up there. And in time, the muscles stretch so after your first time, it's going to be much easier. Same for him."

"He's a little more than me," Dean was holding his breath from her in depth analysis, "he's uh…maybe _too_ gifted…so…"

"So what?" Charlie studied his face with a stolid expression as if they were simply elaborating on the weather. "What part of muscles stretching don't you get? If you want a better picture, try thinking about putting on tight jeans and then how it stretches in the wash."

"Okay, okay," completely strained by the conversation, he pulled the key out and pushed open the door. "Thanks for the biology class, Miss Bradbury. What time does the party at the orphanage begin this afternoon?"

"Five, and be on time!" she said, heading to her Harley and beaming at his discomfort because despite what he may display on his face, Charlie was quite certain that her information provided a lot more satisfaction to her friend's burdened mind. "Remember to take it easy though, and don't rush things. Bye!"

From the moment Castiel showed up on the back porch to greet him, the younger man pushed him against the wall and crushed their lips together. Searching, delving deeper with his tongue and unearthing a moan that was sinful at a little past one in the day; the two of them allowed their hands to roam, whilst Dean's own raked up under the older man's red wool sweater and he savored those taunt muscles. He really thought of Castiel’s body like a drug that could become so intoxicating, at times his mind, his hands craved to touch.

"I should take a shower," he said, after growing conscious of the many smells that may cling to his clothes. "Want to join me?"

"Dean, I've already done that and in this weather?" Castiel's blue eyes searched the snowy yard whilst pressing their cheeks together, his hands still wound around the younger man's waist. "I think not. How was it?"

"Not so good, Cas," Dean rolled their hips together and buried his face into Castiel's neck that smelled so heavenly like bergamot, apples and his own Irish Spring body wash. Those scents exhilarated him, curled his toes and he couldn't bring himself back down from a toe curling high, even when Castiel hugged him tighter as if craving so much intimacy between them.

"I was wondering how those living conditions may affect you. It's not for the faint hearted and you're most certainly _not_ like that but why it must have affected you is for the most obvious reason." The older man nudged Dean's face away from his neck so that their eyes could meet. "You're too kind to ignore the sight of poverty that you must feel obliged to help them in any possible way."

"I just want to do what I can, you know? If I could, I'd give them hampers every single week."

"One thing you must be conscious of though," Castiel said softly, fixing the scarf around Dean's neck and resting their foreheads together, "is that without the struggles, some may resort to quite a relaxed life where they depend on others to support them. I'm not saying that they do not deserve assistance, but I've seen the mentality become ignorance when Balthazar and I upheld our feeding program. We…were so passionate about providing assistance any opportunity we got, but after some time…" he studied how green eyes softened, "we noticed that the parents stopped caring and they handed over the reins to us to tend to their children whilst _they_ sought out drugs and alcohol and the many pleasures of life."

He never thought about the situation like that, only where he wished to keep going back again and again to provide help. Despite his limited funds, Dean could not return with more hampers and money but he could take pastries and cake anytime there was sufficient. He could prove to the families in the mountains that as wealthy and better off some people like him were, they still could care because they had a heart. And Castiel could only have good intentions, based on experience but he might not understand that at the age of twenty-five, Dean was far too fond of trying out what his heart desired.

"Are you still with me?" the older man asked quietly after some time passed without any conversation between them, just their bodies pressed together into a hug that never ended.

The cold winter stung Dean's cheeks and he smiled generously before planting a kiss onto Castiel's parted lips that were a bit chapped. "I'd never be with anyone else."

"You know what I mean," blue eyes warmed from a short chuckle and then he raked his fingers through dark blonde hair. "Come inside and let's get you all warmed up because your skin is a little chilled. And by the way, I'm going to have to return home to get dressed for the party at Saint Anne's so—"

"I'll drive you over around four and then we can both head over from there. Cas…" Dean captured the older man around his waist and pulled them so close that Castiel hummed from satisfaction when the heat emanated between their thighs. "Jesus, do you feel that? I'm already hard—"

"Dean…don't say another word or else we'll end up screwing up each other again and…"

"I want you to warm me up down there with your damn mouth," Dean purred, completely shifting into a personality that seldom was revealed and obviously caused Castiel to gasp softly. "Take me inside of your mouth over and over again until I—"

"Good God, so this is where all the sex noises are coming from," Sam showed up with his tall and lanky form by the backdoor. "Dad!" he called into the house, cheeks glowing pink, "they're out here sucking face and—" After Dean untangled himself from Castiel and angrily approached his brother, Sam darted into the house and then the chase ensued all the way around the tree until a scuffle turned them onto the carpeted floor.

The lack of persistence to beat his brother down a peg or two never dulled over the years, so despite their playful antics, Dean was always rather rough whilst rumbling around. Sam matched him equally of course, grabbing his brother into a neck lock that became so ridiculous to even attempt an escape that the two of them ended up laughing heartily.

"I suppose that you might have been rather uncomfortable afterwards," Castiel said later that day when they were both inside the Impala and headed towards the orphanage. "My poor darling."

Dean turned the wheel and swung them onto the path leading through the trees before casting a judgmental look at the older man. "Listen, thank the heavens for the two pants along with boxers I had on or else my junk would have been very much _there_ in the open."

"Calm down," Castiel said softly and smiling as he reached out and carefully patted the front of Dean's black jeans. "Or else you may embarrass your owner and your biggest fan."

The loud laughter that followed from the younger man was far too abundant in happiness that tears leaked from his eyes. Even as he turned up the music a little, Toto's _Africa_ filling the Impala, Dean was consumed by a feeling that was so beautiful, he couldn't ever imagine being deprived of it. Lightheadedness, bliss in many forms, contentment to such an extent that glorified his world. The snow was brighter in white, the scent of their colognes sharper and his attention matched that with enough clarity to identify that Castiel was so soft, he kept blushing, allowing their eyes to meet then turning to cast his gaze outside.

By the time they were both walking down the cleared path leading to the orphanage which was decorated with red streamers and shiny Christmas balls, they couldn’t avoid the obvious. No matter how many prying eyes were present, even the nuns who greeted them with warmth and hugs, Dean linked his hand with Castiel's and proudly announced their attachment to each other without elaborating verbally. And even though they passed under the beautiful arch by the doorway covered in vines interwoven with chrysanthemums as a couple, they caught the eyes of three boys that lingered nearby.

"Fag," one of them said, hanging by a cluster of plant pots and armed with a definite glare. "Gay. So definitely gay.

His friend hanging by his side, tall and lanky decided that he thought it necessary to contribute. "Rich, gay pansies who like sucking each other's dicks. Filthy if you ask me. Turns my stomach how two men can get naked with each other."

"Yes," the third one nodded, although his expression didn't quite register a scowl like his friends but rather much the need to appear in agreement with their insults. "You're not welcome here."

Dean stiffened and what felt like a cold front cemented itself inside his head, like a wall made of snow but slowly crumbling. Memories, of something similar where there was a desperate need to prove them otherwise and when he couldn't, he decided—

"Why don’t the three of you go say your prayers?" Charlie showed up and shooed them away, decked out like Mrs. Clause in a red skirt suit, Santa hat and red leggings. "Hey, don't mind them!" her gaze rested on Dean reluctantly tugging his hand away from Castiel's own, whilst the older man observed the reaction and appeared severely wounded. But she touched his arm, "listen, you two being a couple is nobody's business. Don't give them the satisfaction of being right. Be yourself! Come on in."

When they moved inside though, where tables were arranged and decorations hung from the ceiling, Dean felt rather much ashamed of himself that he pulled Castiel into his side and pressed a soft kiss onto the older man's left cheek. "Just a stupid reflex," he referred to earlier by the door. "You know it doesn't mean anything, right?"

"Of course, ah look, it's the nun you most feared from a very young age…"

Dean scrutinized Castiel's wide smile and he immediately froze up from fear because there could only be _one_ person who fitted that memory. The _woman in black_ who was purported to be a terrible witch in disguise that kidnapped children and ripped their heads off. Her eyes were severely black, mannerism stiff and spoken words very few. She also floated around like a spirit and so she did in their direction, which caused Dean to stare in bewilderment and before he could escape, Castiel reached for his wrist and squeezed.

"Delighted to see you, Sister Francis," after extending a hand, it was taken and the older man squeezed, the bond between the two immediate and obvious to widened pair of green orbs. "Season's greetings and I hope that all's well with the building."

"Yes, the furnace was fixed just yesterday…"

 _To burn the dead bodies_. Dean swallowed his gasp and gingerly chewed on his lips before those black pools of death turned to consider him, possibly detecting that he was shaking in his boots from fear.

One night, many years ago, he was walking home with a group of boys and there she was, shoveling dirt into an already dug out hole in the ground. It was a simple joke they supplied back then, ‘you burying a dead body, miss?’ to which she responded by turning black eyes onto them. Her last words were ‘go home before you’re next’. And slowly but surely, she commenced dragging the shovel in their direction, the four of them lingering by the old picket fence quite wide eyed until…

"Hello, Dean," the nun provided in a flat tone, her gaunt face quite stolid and terrifying in close proximity. "You left quite an impression on the villagers in the mountains this morning. Thank you for assisting Miss Bradbury."

"Sure," Dean squeaked before clearing his throat and glancing at Castiel who tilted his head and provided a smile. "It was no problem to me and I liked doing…that." He was barely hyperventilating and realized that childhood fears could sneak up and devour someone in a flash. "I'm actually…a good person…you know, just in case anyone thinks I’m not. I'm really _not_ a…bad person."

Castiel sighed and sought out Sister Francis' attention before he provided some clarity. "I’m afraid that he has always been terrified of you since he was a boy. He is of the impression that you would come to get him if he ever behaved badly."

Shockingly, a small smile turned into a chuckle from the nun who studied Dean with mild fascination. "The tale still lives on, I'm certain of it. Of me being the woman in black who eats children's heads off and throws the rest into the furnace downstairs. It might be true," she narrowed those eyes black as coals at him. "But since you were never taken…I believe when you tell me that you're a good person."

Stepping back one too many paces, Dean almost stumbled on a chair behind him and then he caught the back of it before steadying himself. Then highlighting the refreshments in a red cooler not too far away, he chased the adrenaline towards the corner, selected a bottle of Sprite, twisted the cap and drank heartily. And when he glanced back at where he once stood staring at one of his worst childhood terrors, he realized that both Castiel and the nun had disappeared out of the room completely.

She took his soul mate away, his true love, his…

It was then that Dean discovered how nightmares could fuel paranoia because he immediately believed that the man he loved was possibly snatched by the old woman. Until the general sense of being ridiculously childish washed over him and he smiled, laughed a little when Sister Francis was seen hovering by an open doorway. Castiel happened to be surrounded by a group of dancing children and already he was lending a helping hand by distributing snacks on a red plastic tray.

Dean could have melted from the sight of his _boyfriend_ reaching down to affectionately tap the head of a small girl, her happy face upturned and laughing gaily. He believed that he was far too lucky to have someone like Castiel in his life, a man who loved him so much that the very sight of him caused him to blush so deeply.

Then there were times when their eyes would meet, just as it happened whilst Dean stood there all by himself, and in the midst of elaborating on something, Castiel's words would falter. He would give in to gazing, blinking slowly and those parted lips searched for what he must have been saying until the flush came back on that perfect face. And because Dean could never appreciate how he was special enough to be gifted with someone who was also special, he always thought that he wasn't deserving of a man like Castiel.

Whilst the small speakers played Christmas songs like 'Deck the Halls' and 'Jingle Bells', the busyness around the room turned into more dancing and squeals from the smaller children that were too young to be discarded by their parents. One of them Dean couldn't stop admiring because she was very small but determined to prove her independence by eating her snacks alone. Despite the assistance rendered by an older girl, the child who appeared so adorable with her two short ponytails, collected the biscuits and sucked on them before biting. And after she finished consuming two, she slid off of the chair and wobbled towards him until he realized that he was amidst the small corner containing toys.

"Me," her small voice announced after picking up a large rubber ball and holding it up to him. "Play."

"Sure," Dean's heart melted instantly and he collected the toy from her then glanced behind him until he located a chair. "Uh," sitting on it, and unsure of how to play with a small child and a toy too large to throw at her, he decided that the next best thing was to ask for assistance. "So, how do we do this? Do you want me to—" when she started to punch it with her little fists, he became too impressed and could only stare back. "Wow," Dean couldn't conceal his smile as the little boxer whacked away at the ball. "You're a fighter, aren't you? What's your name, huh? Xena?"

"Nadira," said a boy with a familiar face who took a seat next to him and fondly smiled at the little girl continuing her punches. Dean immediately recognized him from the trio by the doorway upon his entry into the orphanage earlier, one of the sourpusses. "Nadi for short. And she has a speech impediment, so you mightn't get much from her except one word at a time. But she's really smart for a five-year-old. And she's adorable."

"So you _can_ be nice," Dean felt iffy about the earlier comments that still bruised him. "Good to know and thanks."

"I'm sorry," the boy said with a frown, dressed in a yellow t-shirt, faded blue jeans and a tattered winter coat. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that my friends…they're very unaccepting of everything they can't understand."

Dean sympathized with a nod and then he licked his lips before holding out the ball and realizing that Nadira's punches had turned into wrapping her small arms around the toy. "I get that, believe me I do. But it doesn't mean that you have to join in if you don't agree."

"If it means that I wouldn't get beaten up, then…" sitting back and appearing quite innocent despite his depth of words, those blue eyes were wide and obviously fascinated by the likes of Dean. “I’ve learnt that hiding under lies is the best option.”

"What's your name?"

"Jack," said the teenager who continued to smile in the warmest way which displayed how his character may be entirely flourished with good traits. "And you must be Dean that Charlie talks about."

"Is she _that_ obvious with the descriptions?"

Jack chuckled and collected Nadira into his lap then softly cooed in her left ear, causing the child to melt into his embrace. "Well she did mention that your eyes are green and that you wear black glasses and favor turtleneck sweaters."

"Dammit," Dean tugged at the neck of his red sweater and frowned because it became his signature choice of clothing, by default, of course, unless he made the effort to change his appearance. "So, what's the deal with you? Been here long?"

"Just two months," Jack said after he released Nadira and she ran towards the center of the room where a stray balloon was being chased after by two other toddlers. "My parents kicked me out."

"Why?" Dean rose up and the two of them walked through the scrambling arms of kids of all ages who really enjoyed the Christmas parties hosted by the church and other beneficiaries like Castiel.

It was only after the two of them found a quiet space outside on a balcony overlooking the backyard with empty swings and seesaws that Jack sighed. He seemed so older in that moment, his features darkened by the lack of light, and Dean recognized the appearance of someone who was far too troubled by his life's struggles to conceal it permanently.

"I'm just seventeen. But it didn't matter to them," Jack said softly, hoisting himself up and sitting on the bannister. "They didn't like that I had a boyfriend, so they sent me to this camp last year that tried to brainwash me. It's not like I thought I was normal," he offered Dean a shrug, "but I thought that they would love me despite it. And I was wrong."

"Jack, no one is normal, okay? And I mean _no one_."

"Then why do people create camps like The Right Path and why do churches preach that anything that's not in the Bible is not normal?"

Dean sighed because for many years of his younger life, he too questioned the words contained in a book which was thumbed through constantly by his own father. And John preached the gospel for anyone who would listen, which is why Dean would have never believed that his father could become so accepting of his relationship with Castiel. But it just proved to him that love could conquer anything else and even though John might have been displeased by the idea, he still brushed past his judgments to love his son.

"It's just the things ignorant people do to feel good about themselves because they're too damn scared," Dean said, studying the thick forest in the distance that led to the church somewhere not too far away. "Not so long ago I didn't even realize that I had feelings for another guy until the truth kind of jumped out at me and the first thing I thought afterwards? Hey, no one's going to accept this. Hell, I didn't even want to accept it because I thought it was wrong. But I'll tell you something, Jack, the best way to survive in life is by learning to love yourself first. Once you got that," Dean connected their eyes and pleaded for understanding, "no one can break your stride."

The younger man swallowed before blinking, almost as if he was suddenly waking up to a new realization. "Okay, but what about my parents? Should I just give up on believing that they will ever accept me for who I am?"

"Only thing you can give them at this point is time," Dean said with a nod, and he turned to settle his back onto the railing so that they could face each other. "Patience is hard but it's all you've got sometimes and maybe they wouldn't ever accept it. Maybe they will but you shouldn't forget them. Think of all the times they loved you before and hang onto that. And see, the thing is, most parents are terrified about the idea of their kid turning out to be gay because of the stigma and the hate and the bullying. They can't deal with that. They don't know _how_ to deal with it, so they wrongfully push their kids away. Come a year, two, maybe three years down the line, they're going to wonder about you and regret letting you go. They probably already do."

He was so immersed in their conversation that Dean didn't even realize Castiel was partially concealed by the doorway, behind the curtain and fondly listening in on the wise words offered to an unsettled young man.

“Before you know it, life catches up in the blink of an eye. Me? I was sailing through this phase where I literally took everything for granted. I studied hard, became lost in books, TV shows, separated myself from reality and it got me nowhere. Because whilst I was inside my own bubble, depriving myself of blooming, something special was right there waiting for me.” Dean sighed and his slumped shoulders reflected his regret. “All I’m saying is, make the most of what you got now, because come tomorrow, you never know what’s in store.”

"Does being like this ever become easier?" Jack offered a frown and sighed, "or does it just get more difficult? What's it like for you…being gay and in a relationship with another guy?"

 _I'm not gay_ …

"You got any friends here that know about your sexuality and still stick by your side?" Dean wondered out loud, returning the frown because support was always necessary.

"I've got Charlie," Jack piped up with a wide smile, "she knows. And she's really nice to me since the first day I came here."

"Then…keep in contact with her. Keep your circle small with people you can trust, you know?" Dean thought of how few friends he now entertained and realized that if he ever related his situation to a few of them from high school, then they would be very much judgmental. "Those two assholes who you hang with?" he jerked his thumb to the inside of the building that contained all the excitement, "what are the odds of them finding out about you and still sticking around? They might beat the crap out of you. So, maybe you should stick around them a little but think about the long run because if you lead, they're not going to follow."

"I just wish that there were more people like Charlie around here," Jack said, embracing the speech delivered by the older man.

"You and me both. But hey, she's a one in a lifetime kind of friend and we're both lucky to have her, am I right?" Dean fondly ruffled Jack's hair and jerked his chin to the music emanating from inside the orphanage. "How about we go find some food in this place?"

Nadira was so captivated by her own charms that she danced around all by herself and chased invisible butterflies. Her two short pigtails whipped to and fro, the lace ruffles on her pink dress became too animated to track and the giggles were far too adorable to match. But Sister Anna, quite the disciplinarian alongside her counterpart Francis, scooped the child up and departed from the room with a trail of three other children in suit. And Dean noticed all of this, in fact, he hung onto the belief that there were certain traditions inside the institution which would be too shady to reveal to the general public, so after desperately searching for Charlie, he inquired after the whereabouts of the missing kids.

"Bedtime," she simply said, already too giddy by her own attention to the activities evolving throughout the night to bother further. "The young ones usually go up early and take a bath before bed."

"So…no Nanny Mcphee under this roof? Huh," he finally noticed that Jack disappeared and immediately became so worried about the young man that he froze up in fear.

What would happen to him?

He could have been unlucky enough to fall into a family such as Jack's own, where John turned him out into the streets, especially after that night during the bonfire. Lee…

Dean's temples suddenly tinged with pain and he winced as a bruised memory of tasting bitter whiskey collected in his mind. The feel of being touched inappropriately at first, prodded and feeling light-headed, too giddy to block those advances. The hands he remembered most of all, wandering hands that searched for places no man had ever touched before. Places where he burned to be touched and pleaded along with his desperate lips to discover. Then the swearing and the fists connecting with his jaw, over and over again and Benny, dragging him away through the sand whilst he couldn't even struggle. The taunts that followed and Sam's looming face over him whilst he was stripped down and covered with a blanket.

_"What happened to him? Who beat him up? Was it those guys? Did he fight with them?" that younger voice of a brother who would always care for him. "Benny, did they beat him up because he kissed Lee?"_

_"Don't you dare breathe a word of it to anyone, you hear me? What you saw? It never happened, brother. And it remains between us three, you got me?"_

_Sam's terrified face and then a quick nod. The room felt so cold, his lips bruised but still warm from that kiss and then Dean's world was fading away._

Charlie laughed and thumped his right arm playfully, a sparkle in her eyes. "Dude, chillax. You're far too soft with kids. Stop worrying."

_“You’re too beautiful to be left behind, Dean,” Lee said, his smile bright from the beer and the bonfire, “I’ve always known it. I’ve always seen it in you. Us? We’re different. We’re not meant to have fairytale romances and weddings.” A peck at first as they remained seated behind the crowd of friends, away from prying eyes. Lee leant in and dared another._

_Dean’s eyes were searching, the intensity in his gaze with so much depth and fanning out into a young man’s mind that could be considered as bold. He was always rash and fast paced, kind-hearted and rough until there was love, caresses and kind words. Until he drugged Dean with his advances, tugging him in and then the taste of whiskey was sour from being intermingled with beer._

_But it wasn’t as sour as the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, sand grinded between his teeth and an elephant swelling painfully inside of his chest._

The familiar warmth captivated Dean instantly and he glanced at Castiel who was frowning whilst sipping some tangy sweet punch from a red cup. "What are we worrying about now?" The festive red and green wool sweater with long sleeves gave the older man the appearance of quite a contented and homely father as well as a deserving husband.

_"Dean, nothing happened, okay? I'm not into you like that," Lee said, scowling. "It just happened because we were high."_

_"Didn't feel like it just happened."_

_"What?"_

_"You had your damn hands all over me! You were coming in over and over again and then you only stopped when those assholes started throwing punches. On me. ME, Lee. Not you. I didn't do shit but they thought it was me. Now everyone keeps saying that I'm gay and I'm not gay, dammit."_

_"It'll pass over, man."_

_“I can’t have things like that said about me, dammit. My dad would kick me the hell out of town, I’d be completely disowned by my god father because he’s the most perfect person in my damn life. Jesus.”_

"Nothing," Dean grumbled, still unsettled by memories that just happened to dig themselves up and seep through the walls he built to keep them concealed. All the trauma created concrete barriers that were strong enough to keep those painful images buried in the past but not now. After talking to Jack, after the kid asked him what it was like being gay, something just opened up inside of his mind and brought everything back.

"Dean's overreacting because they took some of the kids up early. And I'm just telling him that he shouldn't bother himself too much because it's almost nine and it's way past their bedtime." Charlie offered her friend a comical expression and received rolled eyes that suggested that he was far too unimpressed.

"Is it so late already? We should leave soon. Dean?" Castiel studied the paler expression of the man by his side and frowned deeply because there was something on his countenance that registered anything but the earlier relaxed and jovial state. "Dean?"

Feeling the squeeze of his arm, quite reassuringly and the pleading tone in the older man's voice, green eyes turned to stare, wide as saucers. And then blinking rapidly, Dean cleared his throat and tried to focus on the depth of blue that was so calming and beautiful that he began to drown in them.

_“Lee, you need to tell them that we're not together!”_

_“Why does it bother you so much? You’re not straight, Dean. Goddammit. Why don’t you just admit that?” Lee’s scoff was hurtful. “For god’s sake, you’re in love with your fucking mentor. Your eyes are all over him when he’s around you. It’s always Cas this and Cas that. Admit it, if you could, if he was our age, you’d fuck him just like Benny wants to fuck you—”_

_All it took was one fist connecting with Lee’s jaw and the fight that ensued served Dean suspension from school for two weeks._

"Are you okay, my love?" Castiel tried again, and despite Charlie already darting off to inform everyone of the curfew, she kept glancing at the pair who lingered by the group of chairs for a full minute.

"I think I want to leave," Dean said quietly, growing lightheaded and finding it difficult to focus. He discovered that clinging to the man by his side was always his first reflex and Lee’s words that rushed back felt so hurtful and heavier. "Can we just go?"

"Of course," after deciding that it was high time to depart, the older man waved at Charlie before wrapping an arm around his companion and leading him away.

Through the shadowed yard they went, under hanging decorations and a light snow that dotted Dean's red beanie and gathered between Castiel's slightly greying dark brown hair. All the way towards the Impala parked across the street, the silence didn't feel heavy but a bit worrying to the older man, and although he wished to give Dean some space to elaborate further whenever most suited, he still wished to change the dampened aura. The way the younger man opened the car door and climbed in with downcast eyes, fumbled to push the key in, lips parting to allow a small sigh immediately unnerved Castiel. And reaching out, he captured those gloved hands into his own, one by one before pulling Dean into a hug.

From the moment the connection was created though, when he buried his face into Castiel's neck, he couldn't believe how the hot tears burned his eyes. The wave of some kind of sadness rose up and buried him underneath that he choked on a sob before turning his cheek sideways to wipe away the tears. His gloved fingers swept upwards until he was raking small paths through Castiel's hair.

Had Lee been correct in his assumptions so many years ago when they were only but sixteen and heavily affected by hormones? When the urge to delve into sexual experiences felt daunting at times for him and crushes on girls developed later down the road? When all of the boys were coupling up with the pretty blondes and brunettes and his only fascination rested on novels?

If Castiel had been a teenager among their midst, very dorky, deep ocean eyes, baggy pants and overly large sweaters, would he have longed to become intimate with such a character? Or had he always been latched onto guiltily desiring the older man in ways which his mind simply never understood between those earlier years? Because the attraction was there, and Dean oftentimes discovered that he would fondly admire his best friend in those days. But the age difference possibly deterred him from jumping into an area that would have been far worse than it turned out to be.

He wanted Castiel now though, oh how he craved him in the most desperate ways and because he was fighting with a demon he could not expel at that point, he desired nothing more than a guilty distraction.

Pushing the older man down into the soft leather seat, fitting himself between thighs that opened up and gripped his hips; he sought out some kind of release. Taking control, claiming back his mind. Castiel's mouth searched for Dean's right ear and pressed onto the soft, cold shell, tugging off the red beanie before kissing dark blonde hair tenderly. The smell of Irish Spring grew intense in the closed space of the car, the coldness being chased away gradually by their thirst and anticipation more so delivered on Dean's side because he needed him. He needed Castiel to calm his weathered mind down, to smoothen his thoughts and be like a balm to the strong cords of the past that kept tugging and tugging. And possibly the worst feeling of all was being aware that maybe he was pushing too fast, but he couldn’t stop.

Dean decided to take what he wanted, fumbling with the button on Castiel's jeans and unzipping whilst blindly inhaling the scent of Old Spice and bergamot in disheveled hair that was wild already. His hand carded into those comfortable boxers, and his fingers wrapped around the older man, hot and hard already until a small hoarse cry escaped from Castiel's parted lips. And then they were gazing at each other with widened eyes that searched, heads dancing nearer and hearts pounding.

With every jerk of Dean's hungry hand, he unearthed a deepened reaction that contained sounds until heavy breathing became like an orchestra. And despite the fingernails that raked upwards and dug into his back, he began to savor and adore the soft haze of pain. The painful cage of his jeans, tight and suffocating his cock wedged in there and grinding between them every single time he rolled their hips together. He muffled his strained moans into Castiel's neck and kept moving until the air inside of the car became so heated, their clothes felt so burdensome that the thick hotness clamped down on their minds. And still Dean jerked the older man with the same kind of vigor, thumbing the tip of Castiel's cock and squeezing until he felt the stiffened reaction, the arch of those hips trapped under his and then…

"Dean!" coming hard between fingers that were relentless, Castiel pushed himself off of the seat and he grazed his teeth harshly across any exposed skin he could discover. Dean’s perfect jawline, his already flushed neck. "Wait," he breathed, his voice cracking when the younger man tried to free them of their sweaters. "Darling…" collecting such a handsome face between his palms, his blue eyes were still listless and searched green ones that were darkened by desire, "we can't…do this here." Castiel wished more than ever that they could push forward in that moment, he wrapped Dean into a tight hug and pulled him down. "What is happening to you? Can you talk to me?"

The embrace was a bit of a struggle for a few seconds though, because their legs tangled and still the younger man fought to continue rolling their hips together. But gradually he relaxed, flattening himself onto a firm and warm body which felt very much like home.

“Dean?”

The two of them just remained where they were until the night sounds around them returned to normal, passing cars and the faint music from the orphanage. Castiel shuffled around just enough so that he could wrap his legs around Dean's own, fingers raking through disheveled hair. And still no response was provided but the clarity that inaudibly, there was a desperate cry for help which may never be willingly justified by a conversation, but it was there.

By the time they were parked in front of the Novak's residence though, not a word hung in the air between them following what occurred in the car. The lingering questions remained, the inability to answer those until the Impala became like an ice box and just when Castiel decided that he desperately needed to learn what was troubling the man he loved more than himself, he realized that Dean was staring at literally nothing in particular. Those green eyes were distant, lost and centered on something which he could not decipher.

"Was it the children?" he tried in a softer tone, reaching out and lightly brushing the younger man's arm. "Are you having second thoughts about us…adopting…some day?"

Dean shook his head and sighed then he gingerly chewed on his lips whilst fingering the bunch of keys. "No."

"Then…talk to me. Tell me why you are suddenly hard to reach and let me help you."

"Not here," pushing the door open in a haste, Dean's boots sunk deep into the snow and he continued to climb the path towards the front porch of the estate where very few lights illuminated windows.

How could he explain something so conflicting when he couldn't even understand what had happened? Internally, he realized that secrets could create weeds, vines that wrapped around his mind and suffocated him until he could no longer feel them there. But he couldn't understand how he was capable of burying so much of it away for all these years whilst pushing forward and overwriting his brain with other memories. Good memories. Memories that centered around a loving father and a supportive brother, also a warmhearted nanny who believed he was the ideal definition of a posh and respected son, brother…whatever they envisioned to be perfect in their eyes, he created that version of himself.

Dean only realized that he was trapped from escaping Castiel when he faced the large oak door on the upper flat and it braced him with the truth; that he was spending the night with the older man. This meant more questions, more prodding looks, desperate to unravel him until there were no secrets. He didn't want to expel everything about him. He didn't want to relive the trauma again, even though love was supposed to heal, going back there and retracing his steps would reduce him to tears. The bullying, the inability to defend himself because he was handsome as they all thought, handsome and good enough to snatch any lucky girl but one slip up with Lee created two years of trauma.

He didn't want to cry, to fall down again like a weak, useless girl and shed tears, because all of those things weren’t manly at all. Those qualities were exhibited by whiners and softies who couldn't embrace their manhood enough to fight off weaknesses. John would lament on the truth as he always did, labelling crying as a sign of becoming a pansy and demanding that his sons toughen up or receive a good thrashing.

Now, as Dean sucked in a generous amount of air through his lips, clenched his fists and glared at the door, he heard the soft footfalls behind him and was determined to conceal the truth. But Castiel didn't query further, and he simply fitted the key into the lock, then turned it whilst those blue eyes would not leave Dean's face. No questions asked, almost as if he could read the tension and understood it all too well that this was not the right time. This was like standing on the precipice and realizing that if he pushed, then the cracks would deepen and they would return to building walls between each other.

"Wine?" he offered when they ventured into the apartment and he flipped on the soft yellow lamps. "I remember you fancy merlot, but if you'd prefer…"

"You got whisky?" Dean approached the antique cabinet made of cherry wood and he busied himself with selecting two glasses, keeping his mind distracted through every second. "Good, I see Johnnie's your pal too."

"But you don't…drink," Castiel's tone was soft as worry seeped into his mind, and he straightened up by the hearth, the poker directed towards the pile of logs already ignited. And when green eyes turned to deliver a _let me have this moment_ expression, he sighed and shrugged. "You’re also aware that I am not supportive of alcohol consumption. But by all means, go ahead and pour us some. A finger each? On the rocks."

"On the rocks," the younger man repeated, measuring their poison and then screwing the cap back onto the bottle. He rested it carefully on the shelf again and brought the glass to his lips before picking up the other one. "The last time I was in here, we kissed for the first time. You remember that, Cas? I never held my damn breath so long, and I didn’t care because I was drowning with you."

After holding his breath for so long, the older man exhaled and drew nearer with tentative steps. "How could I ever forget something so special?"

"You told me that we shouldn’t stay in your bedroom for too long because we'd end up ripping each other's clothes off…"

"Quite the memory you've always had," Castiel said whilst moving to the very room in discussion and turning on the light but when he glanced at Dean, he quickly detected a wave of emotions affecting those handsome features before disappearing. "Come, darling," his voice was uneven as he held out a hand, the other one holding the glass of untouched whisky. "Let's retire to bed."

"You sure you don't want to dig deeper to get at what's bothering me?" Dean's voice was a little hoarser than normal and his stare wide and filled with anticipation. "That's what you want, right? To know everything about me."

"There are some things, that you are allowed to keep to yourself," Castiel finally embraced his decision to relax and allow all the room there could be for patience. "Unless you decide that you'd like for us to discuss it, then I may not pry. Now come quickly before they disappear." Hastily, he beckoned and like a moth to a flame, Dean closed the distance between the fireplace and the bedroom door with a curious fascination coupled with astonishment on his countenance.

From the instance he cast his eyes on the neatly made bed, covered in dark blue cotton sheets and an abundance of pillows, he also highlighted the two red boxes resting on top. Very expensive gift paper, red and beautiful with green ribbons clustered at the top to create cute bows and then a white manilla envelope.

Downing his whisky quickly, Dean toed off his boots one by one and with socked feet, he climbed onto the soft bed that felt like a cloud. "These are for me?"

"Who else would they be for?" Castiel delivered a roll of his eyes, "the man on the moon? I do not want a relationship with aliens. Strangely though," he closed the distance between them and perched on the edge of the bed, "there is a fairy who lives on the moor. Maybe I'll gift her these if you don't want them…"

"You wouldn't dare," Dean protectively folded over the boxes and smiled because he adored being presented with any kind of gift from the older man since he was very skilled at purchasing the best items.

Expensive gifts over the years; first edition books, beautiful stationery, his first smart phone a few years ago, the motorbike, an endless supply of car products for Baby, fancy boots, Wenven jackets and colognes.

"Go on, open them," Castiel urged, standing up and slipping off his red sweater printed with green Christmas trees, tugging at one sleeve then the next and moving to his closet. "And stop staring at me."

"Jesus, Cas, how the hell do you manage to work out in winter? You're always toned. Your arms, thighs, making me feel all soft."

Castiel laughed and pulled out a heavy robe of the softest shade of rose gold, and he retreated to the interior shower that was covered in caramel colored tiles and contained a bathtub with an adjoining stall. And he anticipated Dean's arrival even before the eager face poked through the crack by the door, the way those green eyes widened as though he was witnessing Castiel's body for the first time.

The muscles rippling across the older man’s back where those black tattooed wings fanned out onto toned upper biceps. The steam that misted him inside like a God who Dean would always fall to his knees and worship and despite his longing to join in, he returned to the bed after keeping the door ajar.

“You’re not joining me?” Castiel inquired, his voice clear enough to be heard.

“I’m pretty sure that if I get in there, we’ll screw each other’s brains out and right now, we’re both too tired to go there.”

The continuous spray of the shower and then the hum of the heater outside the window. “Oh Dean, such speeches will heighten certain parts of me. You _do_ know that.”

“I could have taken care of that in the car, Cas, but no…”

Five long sleeved shirts, reeking of money from the brand and made from soft, beautiful shades of cloth that he was speechless for some time after opening them. He couldn't become accustomed to the wealth Castiel claimed all these years and that he would be graced with expensive items regardless of his protests. Even the ties were amazing, and came inside a long box made of chocolate colored velvet, his fingers orgasmed from caressing the fabric over and over again. He even brought the dark blue lined with black one to his lips and inhaled the fresh scent before moving onto the others.

"I'm glad you like them," Castiel's voice drifted from behind.

Dean turned around to gaze up into warm pools of blue before he quickly burst with excitement and lunged at the older man, pulling him down onto the bed. "Thank you! I love them, man. I just love them so much." The white towel slipped from Castiel's waist and fanned out around them, unearthing a sharp intake of breath. And although the desire welled up instantly, their lips dancing closer and tasting the air between them, Dean decided to press a soft kiss onto wet dark hair instead. “Babe.”

Burying his face into the scent of the younger man's neck, Castiel moaned from the chemistry between them, the indefinite awakening of their bodies, especially their pores being so close to each other. He believed that coming together would always drown them under waves of intense pleasure, and hoping to at least pace their lovemaking sessions, he separated them just enough to stand up. “Babe? You seldom use pet names on me.”

“I’m not the pet name kind of dude, you know _that_.”

“You could practice, since perfection takes time. Of course,” rising off of the bed, the older man smiled wryly, “I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting on the frequent use of _babe_ or _honey, sunshine, darling_.”

Dean nodded slowly after realizing that such things were indeed necessary when wooing his lover. “Alright, I’ll make an effort. Thanks a million for the gifts, darling.”

"You're most welcome," Castiel said softly, pulling open a drawer and fishing out a pair of dark slacks. "I was hoping that you might be quite open to the idea of kicking off your teaching career after you've graduated. Hmm?"

Dean pushed himself up to a sitting position and sighed, immediately fingering the red bow that now appeared quite lonesome when separated from the gift. "I was thinking more like next month. Or February because…" he stopped and shrugged, allowing their eyes to meet, "…I can't wait to jump into it. I mean, there's so much that I want to do already and I'm just so impatient about getting ahead."

"Understood," Castiel pulled the front of his robe closer together and approached the large window. He parted the dark red blinds and peered outside. "But you can begin small projects in the meantime. The feeding program for instance, can be resuscitated earlier. And I don't feel like you must rush into your post as a teacher just yet. There may be things that come your way which require room for…adapting."

"Like?"

Castiel swallowed his anticipated thoughts and began to worry again if planning a proposal so soon was a terrible idea. "A new year? A new term? New courses which may require an extensive amount of reading to close off your degree and mind you, I do not want you to make the same mistake I did." He turned to offer widened blue eyes, "I jumped right into the family business before even beginning my final year at university and I flunked four courses. Barely managed those awful C grades. My father told me, he warned me to pace myself but I couldn’t wait to earn my own income, I…" returning his stare to the darkened moor, he sighed, "just felt like I needed to earn something of my own instead of reaping the family wealth. Therefore, you should wait…"

"I'll do that then," Dean settled into the moment and swallowed the advice given to him, which always directed his path in the right direction. "And thanks, for always guiding me. Without you, I'd be reaching for my future in the dark. You're just always my beacon of hope, you know? Like a lighthouse guiding me back to safety, where I feel leveled."

"I know," Castiel said softly, leaving the curtains parted a little and moving to his assortment of beauty care products lined off on a vanity in the corner. He plucked up his wide teeth comb and raked it through hair that always adapted a personality of its own regardless of a brush or any other hair products. "Why don't you change into something more comfortable, sweetheart? Check the wardrobe next to mine," he gestured to the two separate doors and smiled at his deodorant. "The space will be yours soon where you may bring your clothes here while staying over with me. I hope that…" Castiel's gaze rested on the younger man climbing off the bed and complying, "you welcome this place as your own someday…" his voice dipped.

Dean pulled open the doors, noticed the folded pair of light green slacks and velvet robe before he gasped. No. His heart thumped wildly, unable to breathe instantly when he stared at the brand-new guitar made of polished mahogany resting on the shelf. At first, he couldn't even recognize that it was still his own guitar, the one which Castiel gifted to him many years ago because of the instrument lacking a polish after such a long time. But upon collecting it and turning it around, the same quotes were there, coupled with one more line and a signature which weakened Dean's knees and he stumbled backwards a little.

_Keep on shining, Dean, you're a superstar! May all your fairytale wishes come true – Taylor Swift_

"Cas, how did you…" his throat felt so small all of a sudden, that he could only turn around and stare in shock at the angel smiling back at him. "Did she really…sign this?"

"Of course, she did," Castiel hugged himself and fondly assessed the warm countenance of the younger man. "You didn't realize it was missing for almost a week, did you?"

"The case was right there, on the shelf, and I just thought that it was _there_ all the time. You…actually got this," Dean hugged the instrument and stared, "all the way to…Taylor…and got her to sign it. Okay, I think I'm hyperventilating," he doubled over and tried to breathe, "she touched…my freaking guitar. Taylor touched my…guitar. Son of a bitch, I can't feel my legs."

"Balthazar can confirm that she personally signed it, but don't tell him that I related that part to you. He wanted it to be a secret because he likes ruffling your feathers and would be quite displeased if you began to show him any kind of adoration. Dean, I think you should sit down." Quickly, Castiel hustled over ushered the younger man to the bed where the two of them lowered themselves onto the soft sheets. "Breathe…" he urged, rubbing his palm up Dean's back comfortingly, "count to three like I told you when you were young then backwards again. One…"

Dean nodded, refusing to release his guitar, "one…two…three," he literally felt like his throat had constricted to a needle's width, "three…two…one…one…Cas, why is this…happening…again?" Sinking his face into the older man's right shoulder, he became entirely terrified. "Jesus…"

A panic attack? Well deserved, of course but very frightening because of the depth in which it swept in and tried to bury him under. But having his guitar autographed by Taylor wasn’t the only contributing factor. There was also something else. Lee.

"Let's get you changed, and then, we will watch a movie on TCM. Do you recall how you loved those movies on Sunday nights? Hmm?" Castiel gently eased Dean into a standing position and he began to peel his sweater upwards, "when we would sit on the couch in front of the fire, a bowl of popcorn and a warm blanket? And we would…joke about those soppy romance stories with the blissful speeches of love." He reached for the younger man's belt and unbuckled it, "look at me," Castiel said softly, patting Dean's face and leveling those green eyes, "focus on me. I'm here with you. I always added too much butter to the popcorn, and you would lament about my cholesterol level. We never drank soda although you wished to, adding that cinema effect because then the sugar would keep you up all night and you'd be very exhausted on Monday."

After pulling down Dean's jeans, Castiel reached for the slacks whilst those arms wound around his neck and after they managed to slip those on, he decided that a little intimacy wouldn't do any harm. So, pressing his palms onto the younger man's chest, he glorified his senses by touch, fingers traversing the expanse of Dean's torso until he captured that beautiful face between his hands. Only then did Castiel press their lips together, softly at first, his own eyes fluttering close and fingers curling behind Dean's ears. And there they stayed, tasting the air between them, heads dancing sideways as if daring the other to come in again.

"I need you," Dean said softly, feeling every single part of him yearn for touch, for hands and everything else to devour every inch. "Cas, I always need you and I can't help it. You keep making me want you."

"Likewise," Castiel gulped and entwined their fingers, then he led them towards the bed again where his knees dug into the sheets and the younger man followed. But instead of peeling away their robes, he fluffed the pillows and after reaching for the remote, he tugged Dean into his arms, and they settled inside the thick blanket. "Are you feeling TCM or Western? Hmm?" Necking took control in terms of a response and very soon, Castiel decided that they would never be able to focus on a movie from the heightened desire of his lover.

Somehow, whenever something was troubling Dean, he decided to block the waves with a distraction, and most times, that distraction happened to be making love to Castiel. Now, the older man would never complain about being on the receiving end of that glorious mouth sucking on his neck but he favored a kind of balance. There was a general fear of turning something like that into a custom which may not be healthy, and although he wished not to pry, to ask the question again about what was troubling Dean, Castiel quickly responded and maybe in the wrong way.

"I'm exhausted," he said, despite his toes curling from the feel of teeth grazing his jawline, "we've had a long day, don't you think? I can barely keep my eyes open and we both need a good rest before tomorrow's lunch party. All the guests coming over. Preparations to be made and then more exertion of energy by socializing and having fun…"

Dean withdrew his lips from heated, flushed skin and sighed, sinking into Castiel's right side and entwining their fingers. "Yeah, you're right."

"It's not that I don’t want to…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm always the one who's too turned on."

Castiel shook his head and turned to brush their noses together. He gazed into green eyes that were hazy from that same distant look and his heart pained from not knowing what it was that caused such a reaction. "Dean, that's not true. You're quite aware of how we match each other in terms of being needy. And I hate when you belittle yourself so easily when you're far too amazing to focus on such things. Whatever is bothering you tonight, override it with everything good that has happened to you."

"Nothing's bothering me," Dean lied so easily that he hated himself for being so hasty, especially towards the one person who deserved the truth. "That I can't handle," he decided to include, feeling the other man stiffen a little in his embrace. "I'm all good."

"No," Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, "you're not because every single time you've had panic attacks, it is a result of trying to swallow something so immense that threatens to bury you. I know you, Dean. I know you so well…"

"Maybe I should play you a song on my brand-new guitar," laughing nervously, the younger man collected the instrument from the bedside table and strummed on the strings before casting a wide smile. “How about Willow?” he strummed the opening notes.

"Please don't do this," Castiel's strained voice signaled that he was becoming bruised and somewhat irritated.

"You don't want me to play you something?" those green eyes didn't sparkle but remained flat although a small smile still played on Dean's lips. "How about our song? Heaven. I could keep going onto you fall asleep."

"No."

"It isn't so bad, you know? Considering that it's _the_ best song ever to describe how we feel about—"

"Dean! I said no," snatching the guitar, Castiel pried it out of the younger man's grasp and turned around to rest it gently on the ledge above the bed. Then with a softened scowl, he swung a thigh over Dean's thighs and deliberately settled onto his lap before collecting the astonished face between both palms. "Stop deflecting my concern and care for you—”

“I’m not…” the younger man’s voice cracked.

“Yes, you are. You’re always quite hasty to jump away from the fire because you wish not be burned but…no _listen_.” Castiel pressed two fingers delicately on parted lips, his gaze pleading. “I need you to know, I _really_ need you to know, Dean, that I am prepared to give you as much room as you'd like to work out your problems without relating them to me. But… once it becomes evident that whatever it is…is eating away at you, I cannot stay away. I will beg you to talk to me about it. It is in my nature to care about you because I love you. Look at me, my love," tenderly brushing his cupped fingers on Dean’s cheeks to wipe away a tear, Castiel's heart melted when those green orbs glistened and rested on his eyes. "I'm not going to ask, but I _am_ going to keep worrying about what it is. Hmm?"

Nodding slowly, Dean collected Castiel's hands into his own and pressed a soft kiss onto fingers that were warm. And he crumbled, he honestly did because just when he feared that they would argue with each other about his inability to open up, he was reminded of how special their bond was. But there was something else that always would surface in those blue eyes; the presentation of worry and fear, paranoia and irritation from not being briefed on the truth. And although Dean understood that he needed to expound at times, he wished not to relate every single thing about himself all at once.

"I'm not going to judge you, you _do_ know that," Castiel said softly when the lamp was turned off and they both remained in each other's arms. "We've been here before, and we can't keep reliving the same thing over and over again."

"Like you said, if I can't work this out, I'll run to you. You know I always will."

"I suppose this is all my fault. I…have been very closed off about _my_ past and you constantly feel as if your history bombards me and creates an imbalance. My life thus far has been boring. You wouldn't wish to learn of my flings in high school and there is nothing else but my deranged family so—"

"Cas, you don't have to tell me about all of that," Dean said, carding his hand into the blanket and burying those eager fingers between the older man's legs.

"I just do not like when secrets are kept from me."

"I'm not. I'm can't just tell you about all the stuff I did for the last twenty-five years tops. It's going to take time and we got time. No fair rushing all of it now, right? Cas?" Dean listened to the silence and honestly believed that Castiel decided to refrain from answering until he gently eased himself up and highlighted the closed eyes and slow breathing.

Rolling over, arm propping up his head, he stared up at the ceiling and sighed because there he was presenting challenges between them again. It would never be easy once wounds kept opening up again and again. There would be times when something resembling the skeletons in their closets threatened to upend their perfect moments. And in those minutes that followed, he feared that his stained past might never be understood by Castiel.

"Besides," he said softly, still gazing up at the ceiling which was a remarkable white, "you wouldn't want to hear anything more about Lee. It’s just that when he kissed me, I buried it so deep inside that it still feels like a really bad nightmare..."

In the dark though, Castiel's eyes slowly fluttered open and he stared at the same ceiling that green orbs latched onto, whilst a little painful stream started flowing inside of his chest. He wasn't angry, most certainly not, but he was wounded that the man he loved couldn't have confided in him at least.

“He…kissed you?” he whispered, his tone dulled into a hoarse quality, immediately feeling a startled Dean turn to consider the side of his face.

Of course, the seconds that followed were so heavy that the younger man honestly held his breath. “Thought you were…knocked out.”

“So you decided,” Castiel turned on his side to lock their eyes, his own pair filled with hurt, “that I shouldn’t be privy to that kind of information, even if it doesn’t bother me in any way, considering that he has come back to town. But he is most certainly not a threat to my relationship with you. _That_ much I trust you with. You decided—”

“Cas—”

“—that a lie would suffice in order to muffle the past which by the way, is significantly important to us. Dean, you just cannot,” Castiel’s tone cracked, and his eyes glistened with tears, “expect me to feel good about myself when the person I’m in love with _cannot_ trust me enough to talk openly about things that are bothering him. You’ve done this before, several times in the past whereby you chose to withhold the truth but now that we’re…now that I’m _with_ you,” Castiel whispered, holding his breath, “I am more than what I was to you. I am not just a friend. I’ve shared so much with you that I haven’t with anyone else. And I expect a sense of mutual trust.”

“I get that,” Dean croaked, his expression strained to reflect how disappointed he was in his decision to lapse on their bond. “Believe me, this isn’t something that thrills me. I wish I could talk about things as easily as you do.”

“Three words, Dean. Lee kissed me. That’s all it would take—”

“Cas, come on—”

“No, as miraculous as it sounds to you,” the older man studied the shake of the head, the turning away and shielding of eyes with a raised arm, “effort goes a long way. I am here. I am always here, and…I am not going anywhere regardless of what you will reveal to me. Whoever you’ve kissed, had sex with, it doesn’t matter because we both have a history with people. We both have regrets, and we are not perfect.”

Dean could have cried, turned away and shed his tears into the pillow but he was determined to change, to present himself as an altered young man who braved the world. He could do that much, because he had come a long way and people didn’t bloom from staying in the same vexed moods constantly. They didn’t bloom by withdrawing and sinking into a pit of despair. They bloomed when they opened up and revealed their imperfections and sought the truth and understood that others were broken too.

“Amelia wasn’t the only woman I ever slept with,” Castiel said softly, his face round and open in the dark. The blanket around their bodies was so thick and comforting. “Dean, there were others and there were others as recent as within these five years that just passed. But I never revealed them to you especially because I was bombarded by my own guilt of trying to get over my feelings for you by sleeping with other people.”

Shaking his head, Dean swallowed, eyes squeezed shut and he chewed on his lips before deciding that if words were supposed to flow, then he was going to allow them. “How many?”

“Four.”

“Including Hanna?” he had to ask. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No,” Castiel hurried out, “good heavens no. I’ve been truthful about our friendship being just _that._ A friendship. The others were discrete. But they were just reckless affairs and every single time I entertained them, my feelings for you blossomed stronger. I would leave town to spend time with them and constantly think of you whilst I was with them. Here is me,” Castiel said weakly, “revealing my past so easily to you because I want you to know that there is that trust between us. That I am comfortable revealing all my skeletons without fearing that I may be judged by you.”

Dean nodded, understood that as easy as it appeared when others elaborated on their wounds, he believed that his own scars were far too sensitive to be touched. “I don’t want to talk about Lee, okay?” he croaked, refusing to allow eye contact and hugging himself. “I really and truly don’t because I don’t want to live through that nightmare again. It was the worst three years of my damn life and pretending that I was okay to you especially and dad and Ellen was like me acting so hard to be convincing enough.”

“What did he do to you?” Castiel still pushed, his concern highlighted brightly and would forever become too prodding. “Did he hurt you?”

“Cas, what part of I don’t want to talk about it don’t you _get_?”

“What part about feeling like I am dying inside every time you choose not to talk to me don’t _you_ get?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I am trying here—”

“And so am I!” Green eyes widened, “stop trying to pressure me into talking about it.”

“Fine, be like that. Leave me to feel like something is wrong with me because I would like to learn about you.”

No. Not the disagreements that felt like swords twisting inside his gut. They were so happy earlier that day, so contented and wrapped in each other’s arms. And it just always felt like they were on the precipice of falling hard again, falling in love and falling into pieces.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Dean croaked, his eyes teary and searching the movements of the older man turning away in a bristly disposition. “Okay? I know I’m fucked up and I have issues to work through, but you made a promise. You said that you wouldn’t give up on me. That you’d try as hard as hell to make this work and I’m trying too, goddammit, Cas.”

“Goodnight Dean.”

“Are you mad at me?” he could have rolled him over, demanded that those blue eyes find his widened green ones but he refused to. “Is this what it feels like to ruin something that is so damn right for me? I always ruin every single relationship I’m in. I did it with Lisa, Jo. I gave up on love for a reason. It’s not something I’m good at and I just feel like I’m going to make you regret this—”

“Dean,” Castiel finally turned over and his eyes were filled with tears so suddenly as he reached for the younger man, his arms wrapping around the fragile soul that longed to be appreciated and touched by him. “I would never regret this. The only thing you’ve ever ruined for me is the cage I placed my heart in to prepare myself to live a life without you loving me back. Now let us try to sleep because I am so exhausted right now that there is much need to gather myself before tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, trying a smile but failing miserably. “Yeah, let’s do that.” Still fearful.

Still beautiful to Castiel though. “Sweet dreams…I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean said softly, curling his fingers inside tousled hair. “I love you…darling.”

And he would have slept like a baby throughout the rest of the night if his cellphone didn't stir him a little after midnight. By then, he was far too wrapped in the blissful feeling of sleeping with Castiel, that as he unwound those arms from around him and crept out of the bed, his heart sighed from the detachment already. And moving into the living room inside the apartment, he closed the door behind him before taking the call.

It was an estranged Claire, on the doorstep downstairs and very much ravished by tears to even complete her sentences. Her appearance was ragged, red leather jacket twisted and the lapels dangling every single way. Her blonde hair was wild as always and eyes blotched by running mascara and eyeliner when she tumbled into his arms and because he was a little bit familiar with the downstairs of the mansion, Dean dragged them both into the extensive living room.

"What happened?" he deposited her onto the large sofa and offered some tissues then fitting into the father role so effortlessly, he dusted snow away and lightly caressed her face. "Talk to me. This about Kaia?"

"Isn't it always?" Claire replied in a fatigued tone, folding her legs under and bowing those blue eyes to conceal her saddened state. "I swear, she's going to keep breaking my heart over and over again until I have nothing left."

"Tell me what happened," Dean eyed Garth lingering like Casper by the door leading into the servants' quarters and he kindly asked for two cups of tea. Her fingers were cold, and she was too pale to even welcome a dust of blush on those cheeks from the warm fireplace that was maintained throughout winter.

"Well, I went there like you said I should and I basically came right out and told her how I feel and where I wanted us to go. And without even thinking about it, she said that she couldn't leave the life she built over there. I mean, come on, it's always the same crappy story with her," Claire explained in a haste because it was evident that she had been aching to empty her feelings onto someone who would care. "She claims she loves me and then she doesn't want to come with me. All I wanted was for her to meet you and dad. I just wanted her to see this place and realize that you two, Jody, Donna, Balthazar…you're all family and you could be her family too. But she doesn't want that. All she wants is to be alone."

"There were many times when you wanted to be alone, remember?" Dean collected the cup of tea and handed it over to her cold hands before accepting his own. The sleepiness faded into alertness and he quickly learned that whatever were her woes, his heart reached out in any way he could. "You basically set the board for going off on your own and it's easy to understand why she would want to do the same."

"I know, I asked her if she wanted me to stay there instead…"

"And?"

Claire sighed, rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Obviously she said no."

"Let me guess," Dean provided with sigh, "she doesn't want to pull you away from your family."

"Exactly! She keeps finding all these excuses to _not_ be with me and she makes me feel like I'm the problem because I'm not good enough. And I know what you're going to say, Dean. I know you're going to tell me that I'm amazing and I'm so special to you and dad but you know how it's like when you love someone. You just keep feeling like you're walking on eggshells and that every little thing you do might burn the whole house down.” Didn’t he understand that feeling all too well? “I couldn't keep trying with someone who didn't want to make the effort too. I couldn't stay there and put in all I could without getting nothing in return…so I came back."

"It doesn't mean she doesn’t love you though…" Dean realized that he was only clad in the long velvet robe and long dark slacks, chest completely exposed and decided that if Claire discovered nothing off about it, then he wouldn't either. "People show love in different ways. Could be that she's scared to give you a chance."

"Dean, I thought we were way past that. It's not like she doesn't know me." She proceeded to elaborate on the years behind that encompassed so many opportunities to learn about each other. The long conversations and opening up about their pasts, how she related to Kaia every single discomfort she felt in terms of feeling cheated by her own father; things she never confided in with anyone else. And although they were so familiar with each other, one of them wasn't prepared to take the next step.

Dean, in a way, sympathized with both parties equally, because he related Kaia so much to Benny who was torn away from his family and forced to form a life of his own. When he arrived in Littleton many years ago, he came to seek shelter with his brother in the mountains but very soon discovered that alcohol had destroyed a lot. Therefore, he learned to rely on himself alone, working and being in school, developing no romantic attachments because he felt like he possessed nothing that would secure anyone's admiration. Until Balthazar…

When that happened, Benny fought for a long time to separate himself from the idea of someone actually loving him. Choosing to be with the older man was possibly something that would have turned out differently if Castiel didn't intervene at the time. But Benny decided all by himself that he needed to leave and maybe that's what Kaia was suffering from. She was frightened of falling prey to love, only to be disappointed and after working so hard to build her life from the ground, obviously she was terrified to be torn away from that feeling of security.

"You smell like dad," Claire said when he followed her up the stairs and tucked her into bed like big, scowling baby. "Did you move in? What did I miss?"

Dean ruffled her hair a little because he was far too aware of how the gesture was playful and she had grown fond of it over the years. "So, we've reached a point in our relationship where we can't sleep without each other. He stays over by me sometimes, and I'm over here tonight for the first time…"

"Definitely husbands," she grinned in the dark and then blinked at him with so much love. "Hey, listen, it's never easy for me to say this and I know, I just _know_ that you'd understand how talking about my feelings can make me constipated…so thanks so much for always being there for me."

"Don't mention it," Dean smiled warmly. "And believe me, I know."

"I love you, okay?" Claire said stiffly and stared with wide blue eyes as if she was astonished from admitting such a thing. "Crap, look what's happening to me. I'm girly and I don't like being girly."

Dean laughed before blowing her a kiss. "Love you back, munchkin. With skittles and sprinkles and…"

"...chocolate syrup on top," she smiled so wide that the expression appeared so very much strange on her countenance. "Geez, you actually remember that after all these years? You used to say it to me when I was a kid. Unicorns and bows and teddy bear toes…"

"Rainbows and icicles and all flavors of popsicles…"

"It's shameful!" she covered her face after reciting the childish poem they concocted many years prior. "God, it's so embarrassing. Stop."

And he left her with a light heart and a lot of hope, believing that if he could be struck with luck in terms of love, then she could.

But it was never that easy, was it?

People favored speeches on love being the most fleeting feeling of all, falling and sinking your toes into the emotions that were supposed to resemble rainbows and fluff. But what about the hardships? The struggles and fights? The insecurities? What about the parts of the book when you quarreled and threatened to walk away, when you cried endlessly and feared the worse?

He was there most times inside of his head, wandering around like a headless chicken and just about ready to leap off the pier and drown in a sea of loneliness for the rest of his life. But somehow, despite their disagreements and his inability to open up, Castiel still wanted him, still yearned for him, came back to him.

Castiel still loved him so deeply that his arms reached for him in the dark, pulling him close and pressing kisses like butterfly pecks onto his skin. He still touched him whilst he slumbered, his hands roaming between Dean’s legs and trying to seek out what he considered as _his_ possession.

Despite their challenges, Dean was open to crawling upwards on the learning curve, cutting himself wide enough for Castiel to take a good look at the dark corridors and the bright, comforting ones. The skeletons that danced with the demons. The dark nights consumed by nightmares about pummeling fists and muffled screams. The long walks home when he refused to call the older man to accompany him just because his peers at school would taunt him about having ‘gay’ feelings for his best friend. Getting kicked off the basketball team because he was a _pansy_ or having his head rubbed into the dirt or pushed into a toilet because he was soft and too pretty to be straight.

All of these things he wanted to reveal to Castiel but stringing those experiences into words was like trying to pick each grain of salt off of the floor. Tedious as it would be, he at least agreed with what the older man suggested, that he needed to try in order to grow accustomed to expelling his feelings in words. And he was trying, wasn’t he? He had made longer strides in the past weeks more than ever before.

When Dean looked in the mirror recently, he discovered that the young man staring back at him had changed so much, his eyes were no longer bright and carefree, his spirit was no longer free to roam without a care in the world. Instead, he admired someone who embraced something as challenging as love and was trying to weather through it. He admired the maturity and how his priorities were being altered to revolve around someone else instead of himself. He was no longer dedicated to fulfilling his future as brightly as he could, but he was also considering Castiel.

And if some people didn’t consider that as growth, then Dean pitied their lack of understanding his character.


	19. Chapter 19

**Excerpt:**

_“I trust you!”_

_“No, you don’t, you really don’t Dean, you…” the older man’s gloved hand attempted to reach out and caress such a perfect jawline in his eyes but he held back. “You’re afraid of what this means. You’re holding back. I know that I'm not perfect and I'll fuck this up constantly and I'll say the wrong things. I'll be the one who makes you cry when I don't mean to and I'll…" he whimpered, completely losing his ability to stay leveled. "I'll blame you for things that you don't deserve to be blamed for. I'll make you angry, so angry with me and you'll do the same. But I love you," he rushed out weakly, gripping the door and staring. "Dean Winchester, I'll always love you, okay? More than myself."_

* * *

By ten o'clock on Boxing Day, there weren't any boxes in sight, but the perfectly prepared long, polished oak table resting right by the large windows overlooking the White Mountains.

Cutlery, ceramic plates designed with small Christmas trees, tissues neatly folded into triangles, red plastic cups and teacups on saucers. All of these things were checked for a second time by Castiel, even after the kitchen staff aligned the table with keen eyes for details as it was their job on these occasions. And because Dean was far too enlightened by cooking, he found himself behind the scenes for quite some time.

Mrs. Molly, the head cook took quite a fondness to him immediately, remarking how she always wished for a son who understood the importance of preparing meals. What seasonings to use, the perfect amount of salt and how soon one should drain the pasta from the water, boiling potatoes, the ideal shape of the bowls to match whatever was cooked. All of these things she explained to a fascinated Dean as she moved through one course after the next and then when Garth initiated the selection of the alcohol, the younger man accompanied the spritely one into the cellar.

By a quarter to midday, Castiel was still busying himself with the ambience and he sent Dean along upstairs to prepare for their guests who were supposed to arrive as early as one. Obviously the climb up the grand staircase felt more exhausting than usual, and because he was separated from the whole hustle and bustle of the lunch, the silence upstairs in the apartment became daunting. Too daunting, if he cared to admit such a thing whilst showering, standing under the spray of warm water alone, with the absence of the older man's voice in the bedroom. His scents still lingered though, and because Dean was so tuned into details whilst being in the company of himself, he began to highlight a lot of small things that didn't stand out before.

Like the neatly lined L'Oreal shampoo and conditioner, the Tree Hut Shea Moisturizing Body Wash with fresh scents of almond and honey. The alternative of almond and honey soap, lemon and peppermint foot wash, the fluffy purple loofa. The rectangular mirror above the black sink that opened up into a small space containing shaving gel, Gillette Mach 3, painkillers, flu medication which was sealed, and other bottles that Dean wildly guessed may be treatments for depression and anxiety. He made such assumptions because of observing Castiel orally taking those that morning, and wondered whether his inability to open up the night prior had caused any disturbances again in their relationship.

The absence of several bottles of cologne but just one; Creed Aventus, the signature scent of Castiel Novak for many years and he was such a loyal customer. Honey, for example, found itself into his body lotion, his hair products and candles. Dean noticed his scented oils arranged on the dresser and touched them one by one before moving to his duffel bag. Then whilst taking out the pile of clothes, he realized that he indeed needed to transfer some clothing into the wardrobe for the nights when he would choose to sleep over. And because his curiosity was piqued further, he wandered to Castiel's wardrobe and carefully pulled open the double doors.

The space was neatly arranged with suits hung by colors, right underneath were polished shoes, then there were shirts and sweaters, some of which Dean never had the fortune of examining on Castiel. The jeans too were an odd appearance on the older man, because he seldom wore those and the collection of boxers…

Chuckling with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Dean guiltily plucked up a bright orange one and pressed the underpants to his nose, inhaling the soft scent of Downy and sandalwood. They were breathable, and always looked beautiful on Castiel but bothersome by concealing what Dean longed to always cast his eyes on; those glorious inches of perfection that his fingers just wouldn't survive without. There were times that he simply became so attached to those memories of going down on the older man when he possibly lacked experience but approaching the activity so boldly. And because Dean adored when those moments brushed his mind, he studied his pink face in the oval mirror before getting dressed.

"Damn sexy leather jacket," he wandered over to the article of clothing that reeked of money and slipped it off the hanger, then tried it on for size. The fit was perfect and the scent of bergamot highly evident, wrapping him in a warm embrace until Dean possibly initiated a chain of excessive worrying and anticipation.

He buried his hands inside those side pockets, fingers wiggling around until the shape of velvet became quite distinct. Frowning of course, he fished out whatever it was and immediately stared at the small green square box. What the… His heart stood so still in that moment, he couldn’t breathe and instantly realizing that the item he grasped in his hand was too small to contain a bracelet or a watch or anything else other than a…

Dean slowly thumbed the lid upwards until he was braced with the most spectacular gold ring capturing small diamonds and gasping, he weakly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. Tears clouded his vision, chest growing so constricted and his knees…he couldn't feel anything apart from heavy shock, and even before he understood what was happening to him, the little croak of pleasure emanating from his lips sounded completely unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He slowly closed the box and instantly returned it into the pocket before weakly shrugging off the leather jacket. And slipping it onto the hanger again, those green eyes were wiped and there he stood, staring at what he had returned to its position, the same jacket Castiel had worn on three occasions thus far, even as recent as last night when they were at the orphanage.

Was he going to propose?

When did he plan on doing it?

Were there moments where he wished to do it but refrained?

Dean even went so far into believing that maybe he was possibly screwing up those chances one after the other in more ways than one and the decision by the older man to prolong the question was hanging in the air. Why? Because Dean didn't feel like he was behaving along the lines of an admirable spousal candidate. Up to that point, he failed to exercise restraint on revealing many emotions and he kept secrets, something that terribly wounded Castiel. And as the sounds emanating downstairs signaled John's arrival by his recognizable loud voice and Sam's _dirty_ laughter as Ellen often described it as, he weakly collected himself and ventured out of the apartment.

How in the world could he uphold a stolid expression after stumbling onto such a stunning thing?

Castiel was actually going to ask for his hand in marriage, because he obviously had the ring in his possession already, so the thought had to be there. All of these things swept through Dean’s mind as he descended the stairs and eyed the small family gathered within the expansive room.

"Overslept?" was the younger Winchester's greeting after thumping his brother on the back. "You wouldn't believe who's here," and even as the words left his mouth, the pair in question showed themselves, no other than Benny and Balthazar in each other's arms and appearing quite contented. "So get this," Sam leaned in closer as if the entire ordeal was a secret, "they're actually _together_ and obviously doing the horizontal tango in bed. We found them sucking face outside in the car."

"Must have scarred you plenty," Dean smiled before winking at his brother who stared back in astonishment, obviously realizing that the news wasn't exactly a surprise. "Benny!" moving towards his friend, the two of them hugged before sizing each other up and then the truth dawned upon him. "Wait, don't tell me that you two went on honeymoon together."

"Good to see you again, brother and I was actually dragged along," Benny gestured at Balthazar who was laughing with Castiel next to John's side. "That one's got me hooked on him. I swear, it's the best drug I've had in my entire life."

"I can only imagine." What was happening in Littleton? The suggestion of an excess of romance seemed to always be budding in the air and it was only acceptable of Dean to highlight the evidence all around him.

"Look at you looking all rolled over and eaten," Benny's wide grin was suggestive of so much mischief that his friend shoved him playfully away before the two of them laughed heartily. "Who would believe that we would be riding those Novaks together? Balth is so damn fine in bed that he leaves me weak and I'm betting it's the same for you and Cas. He probably rides you like a unicorn until you're sore. You ever use those lube coated condoms that come in those packets? Remind me to give you a couple we brought back from France."

"Yeah," Dean said, his neck growing warmer after Benny continued to study his face, and nervously, he cleared his throat. "Hit me up for sure."

Inexperienced and very much a little embarrassed that he could not relate to his friend's stories, the only other choice was to listen to the elaborated details of what _could_ be. Ridiculously, the actual thought of rushing ahead seemed very daring to him, and if he could be honest with himself for just once, Dean didn't want to. He felt like everything thus far was all a sequence on a learning curve where the crescendos revealing themselves like the ring for instance, were constant. His relationship with Castiel was becoming very serious to a point where he never imagined they would ever be able to separate from each other. Which meant one thing…

The looming proposal.

Was he ready to be engaged? Finally? Was this really going to happen to someone like him? Believing that happiness would only be achieved through becoming a teacher and experiencing that euphoria through knowledge. Without the intimate ties to someone else, breezing through life without emotional attachments. Only to realize now that those very attachments cemented his future in ways he never dreamt of before and it wasn't all about the sex anymore; it was learning about each other, adapting, having disagreements, becoming humble, trying to stay steady whilst doubts consumed you and then coming out of all the confusion with the belief that their relationship would work.

"Oh dear," Ellen laughed at Sam taking a position by the pianoforte, dancing his skilled fingers across the keys before initiating Three Blind Mice. "Heart, listen to your song playing," she directed at her husband, "you, John and Cas. And by the way, Cas," her giddiness suggested that she already downed some alcohol before coming over, "nice spread you got there. Mind if I dig in early?"

"Hope she's talking about the _food_ ," Sam leant down and whispered into his wife's ear before glancing at Dean who still remained by Benny's side. "My brother will burn this place down if anyone touches what's inside Castiel's pants. Have you seen the hickey on his neck? Does he _know_ it's there? Good God."

Jess couldn't conceal her chuckle and she checked the location of the twins, the baby sleeping in his stroller before replying. "I think he's reached a point where he just doesn’t care if we know. They're so cute together. And this place…do you think Dean will move in?"

"Knowing my brother, he's going to prolong the agony of coming over here permanently because he wants to stay with the old man just to make him proud. And I don’t understand it, never did. He's always been bruised by John so many times and he still sticks to his side like our father's the _champion of dads_."

"Maybe he wants to because it makes him feel something you don't. Oh no,” she said, frowning, “Ellen is definitely tipsy and so is Balthazar." Everyone studied the older woman twirling around with an imaginary partner and Balthazar approaching cautiously as if anticipating the first dance of the day.

"He's _always_ high as a kite and Ellen needs to be doused in alcohol to keep seeing the good in Bobby," Sam supplied whilst sipping on some brandy that warmed his soul after coming in from the winter outside. "Ah, Dick and Jane have arrived," he raised his glass at Jody and Donna coming down the hall and shrugging off their coats. "You know," Sam whispered into his wife's ear, "I bet the two of them are very much into role play. Hands up where I can see them!"

Jess snorted before burying her face into his arm and although the room was segmented by various conversations that drifted along smoothly, a certain someone seemed to be very much subtracted from the party. Claire, it seemed, was wallowing in her own woes and digging into a plate of muffins at a rate which suggested that she was very focused on eating away her emotions. And thus far, her father was not briefed on the strange appearance, nor what transpired and believed that she was simply there after traversing the country.

The arrival of Charlie and Dorothy upended everyone with introductions and afterwards, the former settled next to the young lady with the intention of returning happiness to that gloomy face.

"I've been such a dick," Dean said after drawing nearer to a woman whom he despised in the earlier days but grew to embrace as worthy of respect. "I'd like us to be friends but then that might be a stretch."

"It's totally fine," Dorothy said with a generous smile and her chocolate brown pants suit gave her the appearance of a dashing and fierce character. "You don’t remember me from high school, do you?" when he offered a frown and proceeded to search his memories for the familiar face, she scoffed. "We had to dissect a frog in labs once. And _you_ bolted…straight out the door when I knifed the sucker. Also…" Benny's laugh was accompanied by butting shoulders with his friend, "…this guy was so good in Mathematics and Statistics, he used to come out on top of the class in everything which pretty much pissed me off because I was always struggling."

"Wait," Dean's eyes suddenly widened and he was brushed with embarrassment, "Jesus, you…" he stared in disbelief after the recollection of a tall and bothersome girl hitting him repeatedly with a textbook in the library jogged his memories. The one time when she just wouldn't cease her incessant chatter about the Mayans in History or her competitive streak whilst they worked equations on the board. "Goddammit, how could I forget you?"

"It happens," Dorothy said with good humor and glanced at Charlie scooping baby Dean from the stroller, then brushing their noses together, "I left town a couple years ago with big plans and ended up coming right back here two years ago to help my granny out on the farm. She died, and I never left. Just how life goes and it's a good thing I stayed…"

"I feel like I owe you for the delay," Dean said, tilting his head and offering a sympathetic look. "I'm not too proud of what happened."

"Nah, it's just a good thing that she didn't listen to _you_."

"Cheers to that," he lifted his glass and toasted to her before the two of them smiled and wasn't it such an unbelievable occurrence? The same small town with faces that were supposed to be familiar and he simply forgot the little things, the quirky characters belonging to a high school life which felt like a lifetime ago.

Very soon, plates of food were passing around whilst the clink of cutlery intermingled with Balthazar's Pop music drifting from the surround sound speakers. The bright white lawns in the Novaks' backyard was constantly admired by various eyes, and Jody forced Castiel into promising that he would grant her a tulip when the snow disappeared. Donna seemed very contented beside Ellen who entertained an animated conversation about The Bachelor and John spared no time in seeking out his son, crossing the room with that suggestive smile plastered on his face.

Now the last time John animatedly highlighted his thoughts was when the trio seated themselves on the back porch and Castiel turned his disapproving eyes onto the older man's comments about Dean. He was quite conscious of those speeches, spending time reflecting on his own behavior towards his son. There were times when he felt the need to boost his energies towards scolding and his form of that just happened to be a generous amount of sarcastic teasing. Now though, he began to realize the grand effect of his attempts and didn't wish to bruise his son's ego any further, especially since Dean relied on his admiration and spent a considerable amount of time tending to his well-being.

"Sleeping over at your boyfriend's house, are you?" was the first question he brushed his son with after they met by the pianoforte. "Didn't think you could sleep a wink in someone else's bed. You missed your fairy shaped pillow and glitter?" he joked, hoping to lighten things between them.

"Dad, don't start," Dean rolled his eyes and sighed because the teasing would never become a thing of the past, and since there _was_ no such pillow but it was a jab at his ego, he embraced it as always. "How's the knee? Heard it's been acting up again."

"Damn thing wouldn't calm down, that's what," John scowled at the weather outside, "and it's as good as ever in the summer. I'm telling you, winter is a curse by the devil himself because why would God want to cover his creation in white? Ain't that stupid?" The two of them nodded in agreement and studied the slow sway of Balthazar's hips whilst he mixed cocktails by the bar. "Hey, you heard what happened to Crowley? Or you been buried under hugs and kisses too much?"

"With so much going on yesterday," Dean said, suddenly eager to discover the news, "going into the village then the party after. Didn’t get time to check the news."

"They dropped the charges, that's what."

"You’ve got to be kidding me," the younger man stared at his father with an incredulous look before searching for Castiel's position in the large room and he discovered him nodding with a small smile at Balthazar's happy face and flapping hands. "How the hell can a worm like him slide out of something like that?"

"All we know is, there was talk about no substantial evidence found to tie him down. You know, I been getting this weird feeling all these weeks about it, especially when your friend came back to these parts and started poking around. And they found nothing because nobody was brave enough to say nothing. For all we know, nothing ever happened at the damn church."

"But he was stealing from the freaking collection basket. That should count as a criminal charge that sticks and what the hell happened to the pig who squealed in the first place? This mysterious person we don't know about. You mean to tell me that whoever it is couldn't make it substantial enough to stitch the bastard up good?"

John sighed, shook his head and reflexively reached out to turn up the collar of his son's maroon colored jacket. "Don't know, son. Just don't know. What I _do_ know, is that Cas been leaving marks on my boy like you're some kind of a chew toy. It ain't pretty showing off where his mouth has been so keep your neck hidden…" when Dean's green eyes widened and reached up quickly to pat the exposed skin around his shoulders, his father laughed. "Don't worry, we've all seen it by now and know that he's marked his territory. He treating you right?"

"He's too good for me, dad…"

"Don't I know it already," John ruffled Dean's hair and collected his son's chin into his fingers before scrutinizing those green eyes that considered him with a bit of fear. "Listen, I know I say things that hurt you from time to time. But it's not like I mean to hurt you, son. I just like joking with you and you've got to know that life ain't ever easy. A man has a role and that's what I brought you boys up to do, to look after your own. But you've done damn good so far and I'm so proud of you. I don't get to raise you up because I'm busy shitting on the mistakes you've made but your biggest achievements…working on that degree, going into teaching…" he directed his eyes across the room, _"him_ …you're doing just fine."

Those words lingered inside of his mind throughout the course of an hour filled with consuming a hearty lunch next to Charlie, Dorothy and Benny. They might not be able to decipher what the true meaning of that contented countenance signified but he most certainly glorified himself in his father's statements. Finally, the satisfaction registered as warming, of the ability to do something right instead of everything wrong, of making accomplishments and being recognized for his efforts. And even though Dean highly admired his brother for his own qualifications and achievements, he still began to feel like he was making strides of his own…in his _own_ ways.

Whilst everyone was wallowing in their own discussions though, Jody happened to hear the doorbell ringing because of her keen senses and rising up amongst the gathered party, her footsteps led in that direction. Frowning, of course, and wondering who the newcomer could be, when she opened the front door and happened to cast eyes on no other than Kaia, her immediate response was a bit of shock.

"Sweetie, I haven't seen you in so long!" immediately she swept the wide eyed girl into her arms, brushing those dark curls and deciding that she was too thin to have been fed properly in so long. "Claire's talked about you," she held that narrow and pretty face already lined from maturity between her palms, "she's talked about you so damn much, it's a wonder you haven't come to see us sooner."

"I wish I did," Kaia croaked, the small duffel bag hanging from her arm and the worn out jeans, jacket and tank top a little too weathered from many washes. "I really wished that I came back all those years ago but I was so…scared. I didn't know what to do…" she choked on small sobs before falling into Jody's opened arms again.

"Oh you sweet baby. You've always been dealt hard blows in life, haven't you? Nothing comes easy and I just wanted you to know that you deserved the best. You can't do it on your own," the older woman pressed that tear stained face to her shoulder and sighed. "No one can do it on their own. We try, we always do. But we always seem to be happier with family, even if they're not blood."

Closing the door softly behind her though, Jody ushered Kaia into the lobby which was a safe distance from anyone eavesdropping and she quickly bundled the young lady into her warm winter coat. Her fingers were so cold, her tattered snow boots couldn’t quite possibly provide enough safety from the snow gathering outside and she must have walked a long way after taking the bus. Therefore, a hot cup of cocoa would suffice and Jody willingly led them down the hall towards the kitchen, away from everyone else and in search of Garth.

"She's been so good to me, I was always so afraid of even thinking about anything else other than work and making it out there by myself," Kaia explained when the warm cup was surrounded by her fingers. Her brown eyes were eagerly fixated on the woman seated nearby and because they were too fond of each other from the earlier days of coming together and bonding, she was quick to open up. "I've never been able to stand up enough to get ahead. It's always me struggling to keep my head above water and maybe I'm stupid for admitting this, but I thought that I deserved all of it. Like I was being punished for leaving home and my brother and sister behind and I would have to keep working my ass off to stay alive."

"No, you little darling," Jody frowned deeply before taking the younger woman's hand into hers and squeezing, "listen to me and listen carefully, okay? A child must never have to pay for the crimes of the parent. No matter where you came from, how broken your home was, it doesn't mean that you have to keep struggling because of that. I've always believed that good things come out of anyone. Look at me. I was where you are. When my mom left home because she couldn't stand my dad abusing her, she also left me and my brother behind. Gosh those days were terrible," Jody sat back and her eyes became distant as the windows displayed the expansive forest outside blanketed with snow. "I remember how I struggled to stay around my old man, because I figured that if I left home, we wouldn't survive out there and many years passed with the worst kind of parenting. I found friends in school though, people who cared about me and made things work for me. And I just held onto them, like Claire's dad, he was the one who helped me get through some pretty screwed up financial times when we had no money and Justin had to write exams. In times of need, you really and truly realize who your friends are, the people who would come when you call and do whatever it takes. All of those people are the ones that helped me keep my head up. And for you…that could be us. Me, Donna, Claire…"

For a long time Kaia simply considered her mug, the cocoa's steam wafting out like little wisps of smoke from a chimney in the village. Her thoughts were so intense in that moment, buried deep down and swirling around and no matter how the decision to leave that old town behind troubled her, Littleton felt like the right place to be.

"I have family here," she said after some time had passed, in a voice which sounded too strained and small. "I really feel like I can get away from my past and try this."

"I think you can too," Jody nodded slowly and smiled, her chest cracking for the young soul that seemed burdened by things a child must never be weighed down with. "I may not know tons about what happened between you and Claire but I think I can guess."

"She was spending time with me for like three weeks now, trying to get me to open up, to give her a chance. I kept stupidly pushing her away and using the excuse that I couldn't run off with someone just like that. It was like…" Kaia raked her fingers through her hair and sighed, "…I felt cheated all my life, I couldn’t believe I could trust anyone. I always felt like a failure, like I could never do anything right and people would never like me or admire me for trying. That empty feeling inside my chest…it's been so hollow because if I can't love myself, then how can anyone else do that for me? I didn't feel like love was ever meant for me."

Jody gingerly chewed on her lips before deciding that the conversation sounded a little too familiar. "I've heard those lines before by a young man who you might really bond with. His name's Dean."

Kaia stared back and blinked before growing all too fascinated. "Claire always talks about him. Her dad's boyfriend, right?"

"You know, I've never really heard anyone call him that," Jody chuckled and seemed impressed by the title, "but that's what he _is_ really. They're just more than boyfriends…I don't know how to explain it. But you'll see for yourself when you meet both of them."

But Kaia froze up from the thought of approaching two people who Claire considered as her fathers, and wondering if they might be too judgmental on her character. "I don't know if I can meet them."

"Nonsense!" Jody patted the young woman's head and smiled before sipping on her own cup of cocoa. "They will love you the moment they cast their eyes on you. Claire has been binging all morning, stuffing her face and terribly missing you. So I think we should go find her, don't you?"

On their way through the house again, passing the watercolor paintings on the wall and Kaia studying their details one by one, Jody determined that the young lady was desperate to be loved but she might not have been aware of such a thing. Which was very reflective of Dean, burying all his needs deep down inside until someone…just braved it all to reach out and love him despite judgments. Someone just clung to him, with hope never dying away but growing stronger and when those persons like Castiel and Claire hung onto a broken person, never ever giving up, they proved that good people existed.

From the moment their eyes met, the youngest Novak slowly rose from the couch and stared, her blue eyes immediately filling with tears. Then as if something tugged them closer and closer, Claire braved the distance and before everyone's curious stares, she took Kaia's hands into hers. And Dean, well his conversation faltered with his brother and the actuality of the pair making amends so quickly proved to be quite a success that his happiness radiated.

He was completely convinced by then of the presence of Cupid in their small town, which may never be known to many people but seemed like the most loving place to settle down. What felt like fairytales were popping up here and there, and what he failed to recognize in those moments was his role in the established couples' lives. The matchmaker, as he was known as, still played out his purpose by acting as a guiding hand towards bringing those people together. And now there they were, all sheltered under one roof with the exception of his father who was quite contented by everyone else's happiness to ever replace his late wife.

Introductions passed between Castiel and Kaia, with Claire's assistance of course, and finally meeting the mysterious girlfriend proved to be very enlightening to the older man that he instantly took her into his embrace.

"You're welcome here to stay as long as you want," he said, heart aching after her wide eyes and fearful disposition, perhaps unsure whether anyone would accept the appearance of a stranger in their midst. "And you too," Castiel provided to Claire, "how did you come into the house last night though? Did you climb through the window as usual?"

"Dean let me in, duh," she said simply, and judging from the startled expression on her father's face, her own blue eyes widened. "Wait, he didn't tell you? I called him and he came down and we talked all the way up to four maybe about what happened between me and Kaia." Castiel simply glanced at Dean lingering by the fireplace, hands outstretched and palms turned downwards and he sighed. "Look," Claire noticed the disappointed look on her father's face, "I'm sure he was going to tell you later but with the way things turned out today, with you preparing for the lunch and all, maybe he didn't feel like it was the right time. But why bother? Not like you care about what goes on in my life like he does."

Breathing in deeply, eyes fluttering close, Castiel focused a flat stare onto her face because no matter how promises were made to work on their relationship, challenges still arose. "I asked you before you left…why it was necessary and _you_ told me—"

"I said that I needed to handle something personal," Claire folded her arms. "This…" she said turning to Kaia, "is the something personal. My girlfriend who you didn’t want me to leave town to be with in the first place." Her disappointment in his lack of caring about her personal issues always troubled her the most. It seemed as if he really didn’t understand that she was different, lived a fast paced life and would never be as perfect as he wanted her to be.

"Claire, despite your inability to understand my concerns here, I was worried about you running off on your own. I am your father and I'm allowed to—"

"To what?" the young woman with wild blonde hair asked, her blue eyes darkening. "To try to control me? Huh? You know, you can be so ridiculous sometimes. It's like you just can't help yourself, can you? This is my life, okay? I'm allowed to live it how I want because that's what I've been doing since mom died."

The two of them stared at each other, and the first conversation they entertained that involved a heartwarming hug and a decision to work through their differences came to light. Ever since, their talks never seemed to mesh by coming to terms with their similarities instead of fighting. And they were trying so much to conceal the truth from everyone when it was more likely to be revealed sooner than later.

"Why can't you be like Dean?" Claire asked, which instantly presented a rush of disappointment in Castiel's chest. "Why can't you just let me do what I want to do so that I can learn from my mistakes?"

“I am not the kind of father who would cast his daughter into the wild so that she may be bruised easily. If you must know,” the older man’s chest was consumed by anger, “Dean and I do share many things in common but we have our differences and this is by far the most unfortunate one. Whilst he would allow you to be as reckless as you choose, I will not tolerate it.”

“Then don’t,” Claire said, folding her arms and appearing indignant whenever she was terribly upset. “I prefer him. I don’t care what you think about how I should live my life. Once there is someone who gets me, then that’s all that matters to me. Besides, you were just a sperm. Missing for all my life and suddenly feeling as if you are oh so important to call the shots—"

"I'm very glad that you're here," Castiel said, casting a stiff smile at Kaia who was still wringing her hands from worry. "Make yourself comfortable and I will speak to the housekeeper about setting up a room for you. You're family." He embraced her again and this time, pressed a soft kiss onto her tousled hair before casting a quick glance at his daughter and then returning to Ellen's side.

The little encounter did not spare Dean’s eyes though, who was nudged by his brother to consider the unfolding of what seemed like a rather intense moment. Castiel’s face was flushed by the end of the conversation, his fists clenching, shoulders rising to suggest that he was ruffled and Claire was not backing down. In that moment more than ever, the two of them matched each other to any onlooker being father and daughter in their disposition and countenance. And because Dean felt deep within his gut that their relationship was strained in more ways than one for a long time now, he was determined to fix it.

“Cas looks pissed,” Sam highlighted, sipping on his beer and frowning, “it doesn’t seem as if Claire is making this easier for either of them.”

Dean sighed, “sometimes I feel like they were both just dealt a bad hand at life, you know? They both avoided each other like the plague and then decided that they would try to make this work. And I get that Cas is trying, man. He feels guilty about being separated from Claire but sometimes he just suffocates her. Always calling to check to see where she is. Forcing her to eat what he wants her to eat. He tossed some of her clothes the other day and she threw a fit.”

“Damn,” Sam understood that handling children could be quite tedious at times and his own brood weren’t even teenagers as yet. “What does he think of her girlfriend?”

“He doesn’t know about Kaia,” Dean said quietly, “because Claire made me swear that I wouldn’t tell him.”

“But do you think that’s wise?” Sam turned to his brother and frowned, searching a suddenly worried face, “keeping secrets from Cas when you know that you’ve already been doing it a lot over the years? I mean, fine, she doesn’t want him to know, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t slip the name in somehow and swear _him_ to secrecy.”

“Have you _met_ Cas?” Dean asked his brother in a sarcastic manner, “the guy can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Naturally, after everyone claimed their positions by their desired companions, a sensible warmth settled around the large living room that radiated with familial love. The coming together of people who were familiar with each other for so many years, lived through situations and assisted during times of hardship. Never breaking apart but embracing their bonds and it was a pity that the children of the pairs seemed to distance themselves unlike their parents. Jo, for example and Bobby's son were residing out of the country, Claire seemed to never stay in Littleton for too long, Sam was all the way in New York more than half the year, and he seemed to be the only one that chose to discover comfort where they couldn't find it.

His mother used to always lament on the importance of remaining close to the people who mattered most and perhaps those speeches burrowed deep down inside of Dean's mind until it wasn't a choice anymore. Had he departed from town though, then he may have never realized that his soul mate was no other than Castiel, someone who loved him more than he loved himself. Someone who pushed past his flaws and accepted those quirks and those weaknesses and everything else. And Dean was so thrilled to have such a companion because no one else would ever compare.

"I'll be back in two shakes," Sam said before resting his drink on the window sill and winking at his brother. "Need to drain the lizard."

"Jesus," Dean grimaced after the evident description and shoved the tall lanky Winchester forward. "Might take you an hour with the size you're carrying."

"That's what Jess loves about me."

"Bitch, I was talking about your height."

"Jerk!"

Smiling at Sam's retreating form, obviously unsure of where to go because he purposely wished to investigate all the rooms downstairs, Dean sighed and glanced around. His intent was to plant himself in the midst of another conversation, and the group of ladies huddled in the corner, the best suit might not be among them since Donna was evidently using the words _period_ and _birth control_ in the same sentence. And it wasn't as if he felt awkward about joining the discussion, but they might feel like his intrusion was a bit strange.

Taking up his brother's glass from the window, Dean approached the table hosting the bottle of Coca Cola and whiskey and he was just about to pour himself a small amount when Balthazar reached for his hand.

"Oh, no you don't," said the older man in the largest of smiles, overly tipsy and still could manage to drive a car like he was sober. "Let me mix you a Sugar Daddy's Cock."

"Can you be any _more_ obvious?" Dean would constantly become irritated from the overflowing happiness and flair of cologne and colorful shirts that blinded him.

But Balthazar was more than willing to make amends, despite their bruised confrontations over the years especially including that particular sight in the upstairs bedroom. "It's a surprise. But you'll adore it since my brother does."

"Let me guess…there's honey somewhere in there…"

The older man shook the tumbler around whilst performing a very seductive dance, hips gyrating to the rhythm of La Isla Bonita, and then he neatly poured out the golden liquid into a glass. "Wait…" hands decked out in a beautiful gold watch and an assortment of rings brushed Dean's own away. "There's more."

" _Is_ there?" and rolling his eyes, he observed Castiel drifting nearer with his biceps stretching the seams of a beautiful sea green long sleeved shirt and topped off with a pair of khaki tailored pants, he was so extraordinary to Dean. It was like falling in love all over again with the charm, the depth of those blue eyes, the adorable fingers that could be so graceful. "Hi, babe," he said with his heart skipping a beat. "How's it hanging?"

The conversation last night that sent them both reeling, tethering near the edge, when Dean feared that they were too lost to stay together anymore. Lee, tasting the bitterness inside of his mouth and studying Castiel’s stiff disposition whilst he struggled to maintain his sanity. All the memories of being beaten to a pulp weren’t too pleasing to be overwhelmed with all at once, and because Dean understood that he would break down and cry, possibly return to that weak and uncertain teenager in the older man’s arms, that is why he wished to stay away from the topic.

"It's not…hanging. I'm wearing comfortable boxers, as you know," Castiel's stolid expression rested on his brother planting a cherry into the glass and then topping it off with a few sprigs of mint leaves. "Balthazar, I told you not to serve alcohol."

"He asked, I deliver. Besides, he's quite over the legal age. Live a little, Cassie. Have fun!" and after depositing the glass neatly into Dean's hand, the older man danced off whilst humming to the intro of Lady Gaga's _Poker Face_.

"Your brother just keeps living the life. He's like one of those people who's always the life of the party, you know? Dammit," barely spilling his cocktail because of the glass filled to the rim, he lifted his hand and sucked on the liquid, only to discover that it was sweet and delicious.

"He is like that, and always has been for as long as I can recall," Castiel's voice remained level, studying the bobbing cherry and growing quite eager about stealing it. "Dean, why didn't you tell me about Claire coming in last night?"

There it was, hitting like a hammer, and delivered in such a levelled and soft tone, no one would understand better than him that Castiel was terribly unnerved. If it wasn’t for the darkened blue eyes, the bold stare and the fingers tapping continuously on his tailored pants, no one would know…No one except Dean.

"You were sleeping, remember?" chuckling a little, the younger man picked up the cherry and plucked it into his mouth before chewing.

"I was, but you could have told me about it this morning. I had no idea she came back until her arrival downstairs just two hours ago. Can you imagine my surprise and embarrassment when Jody turned to me as if expecting that I was briefed on everything when I wasn't?" Castiel, of course stepped into Dean’s personal space as if he was cornering him, trying to capture a definite gaze but being deprived by green eyes.

It was always like that for as long as he could remember, the purposeful move to invade than to back away. The boldness achieved as if fueled by emotions and then the wide exploring gaze as if he could commit not one guilty act in his entire life. Castiel was a work of art, one which was picked apart detail by detail over the course of twenty-five years and still it was an ongoing process.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You knew some of what happened already," Dean shrugged and finally sipped the concoction before humming in satisfaction. "Damn, this is so good. I might start liking your brother now. Hey!"

"Give me that," Castiel stole the glass away and tasted the liquid for himself before deciding on the amount of alcohol inside. "It's too much vodka and vodka gives me headaches. I don't want you drinking."

Dean, growing irritated from the decision to forcefully spare him of a simple cocktail obviously stirred up some emotions and he instantly sighed. "I'm allowed to have one at least and I'm around family. Not like I'm somewhere with strangers. Chill, dude."

He experienced one of those moments where his mind returned to being a little boy all over again, and it was something that Dean detested because they transitioned from that bond. A childhood of looking up to Castiel seemed so far behind him that he couldn't understand why the decision to snatch a cocktail away was so deserving. And so he turned away as if trying to seclude himself from the embarrassment because why was it necessary to impulsively decide that he could not be served alcohol?

"Are you angry?" the older man asked with a look of surprise after a few seconds elapsed in silence between them. "Really, Dean? I'm just trying to be cautious."

"I don't need you to monitor me like I'm a damn kid."

"Right, because my concern for you because I _care_ seems rather much bothersome. This shouldn't even surprise me, your reaction, because no matter what I do, I'm never going to be worthy of the truth coming easily to me," Castiel's voice cracked so suddenly that Dean turned to consider blue eyes with his own widening. "Stop concealing things from me."

"Is this about Lee? Look, we talked about this—”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said flatly, never avoiding eye contact, “we didn’t. And I’ve accepted that you wish not to indulge me in the details. But no, this is not about your ex-boyfriend.”

Swallowing hard, eyes fluttering close as he tried to gather composure, Dean inhaled deeply because had he blurted out a reply, then everything would sound triple times worse. “He was never my boyfriend. I never had one of those.”

“This is about Claire.” Castiel fixated his stare out of the window where the sun could not penetrate the coat of snow to grant his garden the liberty of reveling in a little warmth.

“Claire? I told you by the time we talked about Kaia and what happened, it was late. You were knocked out. What did you want me to do? Wake you up at four in the morning?"

"You had whole morning to say something. You were with me since nine and onwards and you said nothing—"

"In case you didn't notice, you were a _little_ occupied with getting things fixed the right way," Dean pointed out, noticing the absence of lack of humor on the other man's face and jumping to the conclusion that this was indeed a disagreement. "Besides, it's not like I did it intentionally but with the way you're acting right now, it's like you honestly believe that I would hide that from you."

"It's become like a habit because suddenly, I don't know what I _should_ about you." Castiel's statement felt frigid upon the younger man who stared back in astonishment.

"Low blow," Dean was far too bruised by the accusation to even stand down at that point although they must have been observed by someone in the room. "You seriously going to rip me up right now about something so stupid?"

"This is not stupid! She's my daughter, Dean," Castiel said in a tone so harsh, that his blue eyes flashed before he allowed a few seconds to slip by whilst simmering down. The younger man was so taken aback by the reaction that he held his breath and parted lips revealed how bruised the tone left him. "I am deserving of knowing what's happening to Claire, since I've been left in the dark all these years whilst you…all of you…were blessed with her company more than I ever was. I knew nothing of what transpired and I was grasping at straws after the two of them came together so suddenly today. And I thought that you above everyone else would tell me exactly what transpired. The least you could have done was let me know what the hell happened. Here," Castiel reached for the glass, and with his hands trembling a little, he held it out. "Have how many you want."

"Are you seriously being like this now? In front of everyone?” Dean’s voice shook a little whilst his chest exploded. “Can you stop overreacting right now?"

"Can you stop taking everything for granted?" the older man braced his fingers on the glass contained in Dean's hand and tilted it to those parted lips. "Drink up, so you may try all of my brother's cocktails before the day is over. I think he has an endless supply so you'll be quite thrilled."

"What the hell are you doing?" green eyes flashed, and pulling the glass away, Dean stared back because he couldn’t believe how sudden and childish the display of antics presented itself.

"I'm acting the way you would like me to, since you are an adult now," Castiel said with a shrug, "very accepting of whatever you wish to do. Isn't that an admirable quality?"

"This conversation is definitely over—"

"So is my patience with you."

"What?" Dean stared back and could literally feel his head become so light, it couldn't be so sudden and so simple, not like this. Not when they were gathered around by family and laughter felt so beautiful. There was no end to what they were. "So you're going to give up on me _now_?" He could taste the sweet cocktail coming back into his mouth. 

"You're utterly ridiculous to even believe for one second that I would give up on you. This is not a playground where you refuse to grant me the swing and I storm off whilst promising that I wouldn’t speak to you again. No Dean,” Castiel said in a weakened tone, tears glistening in his eyes, “this is us fighting because _you_ really don’t love me enough to trust me—"

"Cas, you can't—"

“I can’t _what_? Hmm?” Blue eyes were darkened, “penetrate your walls? Why is it so different now that we’re fucking? How could you have done it easily many years in the past but now, it feels like I’m getting the shorter end of the stick. Look at me, Dean,” Castiel made an attempt to capture the younger man’s chin within his grasp and even that gesture he was deprived of.

“Dammit,” Dean slapped away the prying fingers and scowled deeply, glancing around the room, “just stop it. Stop being like this in front of people.”

“How? Am I embarrassing you?”

“Cas, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Badly done, Dean.” Castiel croaked, his eyes swimming in tears as he poked the younger man in the middle of his chest, “badly done, indeed.”

“Oh, you don’t get to use that damn phrase on me,” Dean said angrily, “not when we’ve come this far so—"

Suddenly braced with the quick departure of the older man, Dean collected his glass, the absence leaving a hollow feeling inside his chest and he faintly glanced around.

No one seemed to notice the unsettling conversation, except for his father who was silently considering the arrival of Castiel at his corner of the room. And when John sent him a quizzical look, fishing for the cause of the separation, his son could only respond with two things.

Downing the entire cocktail, Dean practically slammed the glass down on the table where the bottles rattled and he strode out of the room. Fists clenched, clearly angered and tears burning his eyes, he wound his way towards the back of the mansion, understanding that eyes followed him, knowing that there were questions. He simply couldn't care at that point because just when he believed they were beyond such immature reactions to things that shouldn't unsettle them, there he was, proven wrong. And he was quite aware of slipping up by not briefing Castiel on Claire's situation but it didn't call for such a conversation.

The words exchanged between them left him so bruised, especially the slight on his inability to reveal things easily that he couldn’t believe someone who claimed to know him would react so quickly. So…unfairly after voicing the acceptance the night prior to allow him room enough to battle his own demons before bringing them to the surface. Now? Before everyone? Why was Castiel behaving so insensitive especially in terms of his consumption of alcohol? Was it because of New York?

That was so long ago when he was drowning in his own fears and couldn’t quite contain everything inside that he fell into the arms of beers. Once, that was it and never before nor after so why was he being treated like drinking a cocktail would push him off a cliff into behaving reckless?

After deciding that people would worry about his disappearance and possibly come in search of him, Dean quickly slipped into the washroom, scrubbed the tears away, gathered as much countenance as possible and then he faced the door. He could do this, could return out there and pretend like everything was normal because everything _was_ normal. This was just a small quarrel which they would move past and then Castiel would be very much welcome again to his character. Castiel would forgive him for whatever it was, although he didn't feel like there was blame to be passed, and they would push all of this behind them.

With that belief resting in his mind like a comfortable lifejacket to hang onto, Dean pulled open the door and rejoined the party gathered in the living room. But from the moment he appeared again, he searched reflexively for the older man who tossed a quick glance at him before returning to nodding at Benny's conversation.

Now, such a thing could have provided Dean with a little comfort after believing that nothing could be possibly wrong between them until he fell into his own trap of paranoia. And instantly feeling his knees growing weak, he stood there and stared at the older man until it dawned upon him that Castiel couldn't deny the attention he was receiving.

He just _chose_ to ignore it.

"Hey!" Charlie's voice jolted his mind drowning in worry and swallowing hard, Dean forced out a smile in the ladies' direction. "Come over here, you hunk! We need your opinion on something."

 _Not now, please._ "Sure," he diverted his path after longing to approach Castiel again and instead wound up seated on the couch and surrounded by smiling faces displaying nothing but contentment. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to be asked what a guy would think about something?"

"Because you _are_?" Charlie wrapped her arm around him and giggled, his nose becoming overwhelmed by the scent of her cherry lip gloss. "Are you okay?" she whispered so that no one could hear. "Your eyes are red and you just stormed out like you and C—"

"I'm all good, trust me," Dean smiled before flexing his fingers and after inhaling deeply, he still could feel the painful stiffness tugging at his heart. "Now what can I do for you ladies?"

"How important is shaving _down there_ to you?" Ellen asked so suddenly that the sound of soft gasps emanated from at least two of the small party gathered in a tight group. "Don't look at me like that. It ain't something to be ashamed of. We were just wondering—"

"You mean how important is it when a woman does it?" Dean's confused expression was coupled with a blushed face and after Jody rolled her eyes, Claire laughed loudly.

"No, you idiot because you're _not_ into women anymore," she supplied whilst Charlie concealed her face behind her hands and leaned back in the chair. "We're talking about _you_ …as in if you do it."

"Why?"

"Just answer the damn question," Ellen holding back on grinning was so hilarious that Dean's lips twitched into a smile because her expression was very reminiscent of his childhood days, when she would pretend to be quite serious about John's discussions. And the change of topic was so distracting that he allowed himself to be drawn into it.

"Tell me why first. At least let me know what I'm getting myself into so I'm mentally prepared."

"Alright, fine!" Charlie would always be the one who braved it all to provide clarity when in the earlier days, she was much too shy around the group of women. "So, like for us, it's mostly been a debate because whilst some women do it for various reasons, others don't because they don't care. For me for instance, I like to be free and…" her gaze rested on Dorothy's snort. "And don't laugh, okay? Don't you dare laugh because you _like_ when you can find what you want. So—"

"Wow," Jody was so impressed that she rested her beer down onto the carpeted floor and licked her lips wildly. "Now, like I always say, shouldn’t need a road map to get to where is important. My wife and I are _not_ ashamed to admit that we—"

"I don't think that our jewel boxes are up for discussion right now," Donna interrupted, her face beet red.

"And you just feel like it's so damn easy for me to talk about _down there_ ," Dean admired their laughing faces and sat back, staring incredulously at Ellen who was obviously leading and very proud of herself. "Why don't you ask Sam? He's going to be very open about everything."

"Sam!" called Jody, clapping her hands in glee as the rest of the women instantly began whispering heavily. "My tall Greek God, come here and share your input on a topic that has Dean constipated as ever. Why? I don't know."

From the moment his brother touched down though, the entire conversation erupted into a fit of giggles after he boldly admitted that Jess preferred a mown lawn to land her helicopter. She wished not to part the sea in order to find land and neither did she prefer to brush the plants aside to find flowers. Ellen laughed so hard, that the three older men lingering by the fireplace considered the party with widened, humored eyes. And when Dean in the midst of losing his breath from joining in suddenly locked eyes with Castiel, he decided that enough was enough and displaying his lack of sensitivity to their earlier disagreement was necessary.

There was no time to linger on what had happened because all it would result in was more paranoia and a damper on his entire day. So choosing not to allow any such reactions, he filled his mind with the healthy enjoyment of discussions that followed until Sam again delivered successfully. He began elaborating on his visit to a strip club and how he was tugged away from Jess and ended up in a _dimly lit backroom_ where beads were aplenty and lace was worshiped.

"And she left me in there for such a long time," he considered his wife's smiling face, "as if she wanted me to be devoured by those thirsty women who craved my glorious body. It's not my fault that I matured into someone that people lust after."

"Get a grip of yourself," Ellen lashed his rear and he dramatically cooed in satisfaction before the fit of giggles erupted again. "What about your brother? He's a hunk too. You're always so determined to come out as the sexier one."

"Him?" Sam scoffed whilst smiling and no matter what he may deliver in the form of sarcasm or a harsh joke, he was quite aware that Dean would never become angered. "He's cute because God made all guys who aren't straight, cute as a button. Not sexy. He can't do sexy. Posh, cute, adorable, but never sexy."

"He's sexy to Cas," Jody said matter-of-factly, "and all the ladies who pined after him in high school so don't go pretending like you're the only handsome Winchester there is around these parts. Your dad was a gorgeous one when he was younger."

" _This_ is where I take the side of the opposition and ask for at least five minutes to prepare my debate." Sam perched on the edge of the chair and suddenly the awes and oohs of everyone turned his attention to the object of admiration.

It was no other than Balthazar pulling Benny into the middle of the room, where he twirled him around before the two of them settled comfortably in a waltz to match Helen Shapiro's _Queen for Tonight_. They were such a match, gazing deeply into each other's faces before brushing their noses together that Dean's smile faltered into a thin line. Because he wished to be engaged in such an activity with a certain someone, but that person was evidently _not_ in the mood to be asked. From Castiel's stiff smile alone, such an expression suggested that he was affected still, and because Dean didn't feel like getting up and asking for a dance, he simply sat there.

They were not going to ever fix what remained broken between them because they weren’t meant to be.

Was that it?

Was this God’s way of punishing their immoral relationship? By throwing so many disagreements into the mix so that they would call it quits and break apart?

But he loved him so much, oh how he couldn’t vacate his heart, mind and body of Castiel’s presence, his aura, his _everything._ Dean was so in love, so captivated by the older man that he could never let him go, could never find himself walking out unless he was ordered to leave. Unless he was told definitely that they could be no more and separate paths was the conclusion of their tragic love story.

He would die without Castiel’s kisses, his touches, hugs, longing gazes, making love to him.

The laughter died away, the room became gloomy and cold that he began to suffocate beside Charlie who nudged his shoulder and considered him with a deep scrutiny. That was how well she could read his countenance, and would never fall short of deciphering what was occurring although he forcibly concealed everything. She also understood when he needed his space, so throwing her arm around him, she engulfed her best friend into a hug before burying her face into his neck and never letting go. So she remained for more than fifteen minutes, until he simply relaxed and pressed a kiss onto red hair whilst hiding his warm tears.

"I don't want you to be sad," she said softly, as Donna kept denying Jody's request to dance. "Okay? I don't want you to cry because whatever it is, he's always going to be wrong and I'm always going to take your side. You're far too precious for me. Do you want to talk about it?"

Slowly shaking his head whilst clinging to her, Dean wiped his eyes on her red sweater and turned to consider Dorothy smiling warmly at them both. Claire too, seated beside Kaia was observing the tight hug but the humor had long ago died out in those blue eyes after she recognized something was terribly wrong with Dean. No one else seemed to care, or really they probably decided that the four young people were busy sharing stories and becoming rather comfortable to notice.

"Dad can be such a dick sometimes," Claire said before folding her arms and casting a glare at Castiel who was still lacking words in the conversation shared with Bobby and John. "He gets so sensitive like a girl for the stupidest things. Like before I left, he kept going on and on about how I was being ridiculous because I wanted to leave."

Although Charlie wanted to warn her about elaborating on her father so easily, she was far too aware of the young woman's personality where no one could dull that bold streak.

"Only Dean got me, because he always does," she continued, hyped up without a care, "Dean's always been the one who supports me no matter. Whatever he did, just pass it off as him being a total jerk," she directed this at someone she constantly referred to as a role model to anyone who would listen.

"And he's probably being a jerk," Charlie picked up, trying to save the reputation of Castiel as a father as opposed to whatever he may have done to her friend, "because he loves Dean so much that maybe small things really get to him. It's how it goes. Most times when you're completely in love with someone, every little thing seems like an explosion and in your mind, you're thinking of how you're about to screw everything up. It's normal, bitches."

"Yeah, what's so normal about not acting your age?" Claire challenged in a hushed tone with a scowl and leaning forward, "he's over forty and still feels like he needs to ground me like he's trying to be my mom. I'm not a kid anymore and I don't know why I need to tell him everything about me. He wants me to just make up for all the years we missed in a heartbeat. That's so old school."

"You're sixteen, doll," Dorothy said calmly, because Charlie's warning look signaled that she was growing a little flustered by the inability of Claire to understand anything at that point. "And you're his daughter. So what we have here is a father who wants to make up for what he didn't do and his definition of safety is keeping up with where you are. Nothing's wrong with that. That's what parents do. They check up, they want us to call, write, whatever. But it's not wrong for them to know where we are and what's happening to us. You're lucky you have a dad who cares. My parents never did and they're not here now to pester me anymore but I miss them every single day."

"Well," Claire rolled her eyes and turned to consider Kaia who obviously agreed with Dorothy, "this is not about me anyway. This is about Dean."

"And _Dean_ ," Kaia suddenly spoke up after remaining shy and silent for such a long time, "doesn’t have to tell us what's happening unless he wants to, so let's not force him. The worst thing you can do is force someone to talk about something they obviously don’t want to talk about. It's personal so it stays personal."

The silence that followed didn't last long before Charlie began to enquire after the newcomer's adventures and very soon all of them were back to conversing on a happy note whilst Dean was allowed space to breathe. By then, there were three pairs dancing to the grand oldies of the sixties and John was sitting down. Castiel leaned onto the window studying his wine and clearly lost in thought so much that when Ellen broke apart from her husband's arms, she sought her friend's company. And whilst the two of them whispered in the corner, Dean picked himself off of the chair, excused his absence by seeking the washroom again because he really needed to use it this time and after reaching the space, he locked himself in there.

People were quick to defend him, but he couldn't even do that.

He stared at himself in the mirror before ascertaining that the ring would stay in the leather jacket's pocket for many years to come because they always seemed to drift backwards after leaping ahead. Was it always going to be like this? Was Claire's statement about Castiel being overly sensitive really something of truth? Surely he seemed to be like that at times, but then Dean realized that he wasn't different either. He was a lot more sensitive and a lot more embarrassing by exhibiting symptoms of someone pumped with estrogen or at least that's what his father would have thought.

After he wiped his face and left the small room which reeked of lavender, he escaped through a side door and went out into the yard. It wasn't so cold anymore, but bearable whilst wearing two thick sweaters, a pair of comfortable tights and heavy jeans.

Very soon though, after studying the fresh view from beyond the windows where the White Mountains loomed ahead and the village down below, Dean became lost in it all. The little wisps of smoke, the clutter of houses he not so long ago frequented where people were ravished by poverty and craving love. Where children were desperate to go to school and deprived of food. And the moment he focused on those simpler things, everything else dulled down to a mediocre throbbing that still remained there.

"Thought I'd find you out here," came Sam's voice and his brother turned around to highlight him ducking his way out the door. "What's going on? You don't seem like yourself."

Sighing, Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and stared out at the view, trying to focus on counting the houses as if the very thought of doing so calmed him down. "I'm just spaced out, man. You know how it goes sometimes."

"I don't mean to be a bitch but I know it's about Cas," Sam said flatly, "I think everyone's noticed at this point that you two aren't doing so good. Since we arrived here you've basically had one conversation with him that ended with you rattling those bottles together and I'll be damned if _that_ was a good talk instead of a bad one. I thought you two were good," the younger Winchester said in a worried tone, "I thought you were so happy and everything was great but it doesn't seem so."

"I thought it was," Dean's voice cracked, refusing to make eye contact because talks with his brother always turned into _chick flick moments_. "I mean, I still do because the things we've talked about, everything we've done…all of it matters and…" he realized that he just needed to tell someone about it, "see, I just don't ever want to think about him giving up on me because it would kill me, Sam. It would destroy me—"

"Dean, that's stupid to even think about. Cas would never give up on you. Whatever happened, it's just a small rough patch and I'm sure that you two will be back to screwing each other by tonight."

"I found a ring, Sam. In his jacket. Can you believe it? A freaking engagement ring."

The taller Winchester stared back in awe before raking his fingers across his face. "Fuck. Dean, that's…how are you holding up?"

"I'm really going to screw this up, that's what I know," the short laughter that followed was topped off with a shrug and then Dean scoffed at the view he thought was beautiful.

"I don't think you will. Takes a lot to change someone's mind about proposing. And to _you?_ Come on, man. The dude's got to be tripping if he doesn’t want to put a ring on your finger. You're a catch."

Sam leaned onto the railing and his height topped his brother's own by enough to suggest that he could have been mistaken as the older one.

"Last night something happened that pulled me back straight into the past when the whole Lee thing went down. I was kind of struggling to get past it again, like _really_ bury it deep down inside until he picked up on it like he always does. And that's another thing," Dean turned to consider his brother with a frown, "have you told Jess about every single thing you've done in your past that turned out bad?"

Sam immediately offered a small gasp behind a clenched fist. "God, no. Shirley Watts from Biology? Imagine how _that_ would come across. Oh hey Jess," he began dramatically, "there was this girl who dressed me up like Barbie and made me screw her. I wouldn’t hear the end of _that_ for the rest of my life. The orgies, the skinny dipping with her cousin, the quick make out session in the shed down by the lake? I'm not stupid, man."

"Cas keeps insisting that I dig deeper and tell him all there is."

"Because you've trained him to do that, Dean," Sam said matter-of-factly. "You've been telling him stuff all your life and he feels like when these things come up, he's not privileged or trusted enough to know. You're now in a relationship and you've got to keep maintaining that bond where you're best friends and sex buddies at the same time. Believe me, I get it. I've seen this coming ever since you came back from New York and I wasn't going to say anything about it but this is one of those things you'll just have to get used to."

His brother could always shine a different light on everything, which is why their childhood was so consumed with being dependent on each other. When he failed to view a situation in a certain way, the younger Winchester provided enough clarity and vice versa.

"It's always a problem, man," Dean admitted openly for the first time to someone else, "and he doesn't even flex. A balance. That's all I want to feel like I'm not giving and giving and he's just absorbing like a freaking blotting paper."

"Then tell him that," Sam said with a sympathetic look, "tell him what you want. Don't be afraid of doing that."

"I just don't want to—" Dean's words faltered and he literally died a little when the very man in discussion stepped out through the doorway, still holding a glass of wine. Their eyes connected instantly, so much unspoken questions filling the space between them that the air became heavy.

Castiel appeared to have been determined to begin a conversation but stopped abruptly after pinpointing Sam, then he returned a stare onto the older Winchester. "I was just…wondering where you…went."

"Don't worry," Dean said in a clipped tone although he never meant to exhibit such harshness, "I haven't upped and left the country as yet, in case you're worried."

Turning to cast a look of disbelief at his brother, Sam sighed before deciding that he would not intervene, despite the many times in the past when he most certainly did.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. Can you come back inside?" Castiel said in softer tone, displaying how he was slightly irritated from the sarcasm and somewhat wounded, "it's rather cold out here and you don't have on a winter coat."

"I'm talking to my brother about something—"

"You can both do that inside, can't you? Have you eaten already? I didn't notice whether you did or not."

Dean was just about fatigued with the incessant questions, the nagging, the outright anger disguised by concern when he was so very much aware of all of the intentions behind it. "You sure you're not confusing me with my little namesake running around the house somewhere?" Green eyes widened, "because you've been treating me like I don't know what the hell I’m doing."

Castiel stared back before his chest heaved. "This is me caring… _again_. What do you want me to do, Dean? Act as if I don't love you enough to worry?"

"Maybe you should just let me stretch my wings," Dean said without connecting their eyes, and he danced his fingers across the lip of a plant pot made of clay and resting on the window. "I keep feeling like you're trying to be my damn guardian again and not my boyfriend.”

"Fine, do what you want then," the older man said in an uneven voice, his chest heaving and gripping the doorframe tightly, he considered Sam’s saddened expression. "You're entitled to, aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am!"

"Then do what you want."

“I goddamn will!” Dean fired back, terribly frustrated and angered and blown up by the injustice delivered onto him in a short space of time. “Why don’t you leave me the hell alone?”

"Guys!" Sam shouted, lifting his hands and standing between the two of them whilst delivering a look of utter astonishment. "Guys, come on, man! What the hell is happening between you two, huh? Is this how it goes now? The perfect couple who everybody dotes on, ready to crumble like a freaking sandcastle? Get a grip, okay? Shut the hell up with all this bitterness, kiss and make up."

"Yeah right," Dean stood back with his arms folded and glared at the landscape covered in snow as cold as the wave of fear contained inside of his chest. Where did those remarks come from all of a sudden? He wasn't prepared to say those things and the words simply jumped out from anger, irritation, the inability of Castiel to just understand…to see past this and act mature.

"Listen, guys," Sam couldn't hold his tongue because he didn't want the pair to break themselves further apart, "whatever it is, just don't overthink it. You're far better than this. It happens. Quarrels happen and then we have to just jump right back into it like normal because that's what a relationship is about. You work things out and you move on. Dean, all I'm getting from Cas is that he cares, man. He just really cares—"

"Yeah, take his side," angrily casting a glare at his brother, Dean huffed out a sigh and moved towards the door which was evidently blocked by the older man who stepped back. Their eyes connected instantly and blue ones searched for answers but none came to light. Shaking his head, Dean's face contorted as his gingerly chewed on his bottom lip before continuing to pass into the house.

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked with widened eyes after they were left alone and the older man sighed before leaning back on the wall. "Huh? Can you tell me how the two of you can move from being joined at the hip to being so salty with each other?"

"This all began because I have trust issues," Castiel simply pointed out.

"Don't we all? When Jess goes out to get the paper, I keep thinking she'll run off with the guy because he's got a better ass than I do.” Sam shrugged with a lopsided smile. “What happened though? I thought we had a long conversation about you trusting him enough to know that there are things he might not tell you now but it doesn't mean he never will."

"It's Claire," the older man admitted softly, learning that he was very much overreacting. "She finds it so easy to confide in him whereas I'm always left in the dark and I'd like to know about her. But I’m never allowed to because she seldom comes to me."

"At least she's opening up to one of you though," Sam said simply, "and it's not like she's out there doing what she wants without telling someone about it."

"But she's my daughter and I feel like I'm entitled to know…"

"Cas, someday she's going to be Dean's daughter too. You thought about that? Look, the twins? Mary likes to run to Jess whilst Marlene comes to me and I don't get too worked up about it because we're both their parents. We're there for them and that's how it's got to be with Claire because she's talking to him, and he's doing some kind of good. And it's okay when that happens because someone's guiding them."

Castiel sighed, nodded with lowered eyes and embraced the actuality of everything. "You're right. I overreacted."

"I didn't say that you did," Sam said softly, sympathizing with the older man. "You're behaving like a dad should behave. Protective because she's been running out there for years wild and free. Now that she's in your life, you feel like you want to gain back those years but it's not going to happen so fast. It's going to take time. Everything takes time, Cas. And most times we feel like we don't have the luxury of it but other people need it. Take Dean for instance. He needed five years after you realized your feelings to realize his own but you two got here and you can't let stupid things come between you. It's not about the mistakes. It's about learning to be with each other whilst making those mistakes and having that support. That's how Jess and I do it. That's what you have to do."

"I needed to hear that," Castiel admitted in a weak voice before reaching up and brushing the tears away. "Thanks Sam. I keep forgetting that he's still going through this in his own way whilst I'm in a rush for him to catch up with me. All this time, I've been quick to bite back instead of counting my blessings."

"When in doubt, think about the sex," Sam tried with a shrug and a wide grin before he sidestepped the older man's scolding and returned into the house.

By then, Dean was captured by Claire and involved in a dance that lasted for more than five songs because she just couldn't stop teasing him. Her idea of a good time always resulted in channeling her emotions into sarcasm and playfulness and maybe the wound should have healed by then, but when Castiel joined the party again and highlighted the two of them twirling around together, he still felt bruised. He couldn't understand what he was doing so wrong that his own daughter thought of him as undeserving of affection. But because Sam highlighted that at least she was confiding in Dean who would most definitely become her parent as well, he joined Jody's side with mere silence.

The younger man on the other hand was far too over the harshness delivered by Castiel that he pushed it down and tried once again to appear unfazed. Choosing more than one person to take around the room through various songs, even Kaia who softened up to him so quickly that they lasted two tunes whilst becoming familiar with each other. Then Dorothy who was quite skilled at waltzing until she giddied his mind around the room. Charlie proved to be the twist and clap kind of dance partner and Donna was far too eager to develop a friendly conversation with Dean like old times ever since the picnic.

"How come he's gone through everyone but you?" Jody happened to notice out loud, nudging shoulders with the man by her side and catching the attention of Ellen, Bobby and John. "We've had everyone do the couple jig except the two of you."

"He's having fun," Castiel sidestepped the question although it instantly cut across his chest like a knife from embarrassment. "Once he's happy, I'm happy."

"That's such a nice way to look at things," his friend delivered a look of admiration before touching his arm. "You know, instead of waiting on him to come across and ask you though, maybe you should walk right over to him and do the asking. Everyone's been dying to see you two dance together. You're the most adorable couple in here."

Sighing, Castiel took up his glass of wine from the table nearby and he sipped on it slowly, eyes glued onto Dean who seemed to be enjoying himself far too much. But he was too skilled with the character of the man who held his heart completely. He was quite aware of the stiff smile, the avoidance of their eyes meeting, the overly happy disposition to determine that under the surface, Dean was beyond emotional. He was trying so hard to hold himself together and because of that effort, tears filled Castiel's eyes until he rested his glass down and left the room.

This time, it was so evident by almost everyone that something was wrong and the laughter died down until Balthazar brought the party to life again. And whilst the questions still remained, Sam knowing all too well what was occurring, everyone else seemed confused and searched Dean's face. To their dismay, the younger man was helping himself to whiskey and Canada Dry as if nothing was awry and quickly deciding that he needed to intervene, Sam went ahead and poured the shot instead.

"We'll both have one," he said smiling, trying to convince his brother that he wasn't just there to impose, "and then we'll have just one more before we leave, alright?"

"Sure, because I'm definitely going back home after this," Dean's jaw worked as he clenched his teeth, trying to gather composure and also trying to ignore the disappearance of Castiel.

But whilst he was tasting Sam's delicate concoction, the older man was inside his office and very much trying to regain his own stamina before returning outside.

Castiel felt ridiculous for the manner in which he reacted, although Sam advised that his behavior was acceptable and why all of it damaged him so heavily was simply because of Dean. Less than twenty-four hours ago they were kissing each other on the back porch of the Winchester's estate, drowning in their love and eager to continue upstairs. Last night they were so beautiful together, the gifts and how he admired Dean's speech delivered to Jack, how he kept his fingers around the small box inside of his pocket and thought of asking Dean to marry him when they reached home.

He didn’t care about Lee, honestly speaking, he preferred to dwell on being triumphant by claiming Dean after all these years than entertaining jealousy.

Now, this was just a bump, it had to be a small bump which they would ride over and become normal again. But they weren't normal. They never would be normal because they never were and that was where the uncertainty kicked in. That was where Castiel kept feeling like he should have continued to drown in his wishful thinking instead of dragging Dean into a romance.

They were so comfortable before, and had been for many years and now their disagreements seemed to be numerous as compared to what history presented. History for him was a very brutal path through which he wouldn't take anyone else, especially Dean and maybe the problem resided in his inability to revisit those areas in his life that proved too painful to think of. And because he was left to sit there and wallow in his own thoughts, he began to touch his collage of photos where Dean was captured in them as a smiling child growing into an admirable young man and he relived those memories one after the other.

..............

_"This is Castiel Novak," the round face of the eight-year-old turned upwards to consider the man in the trench coat holding onto his small hand. "He's my guardian angel and he's twenty and eight years and very smart. His favorite subject is Mathematics and he can add a zillion and a million together." The entire class erupted in applause until the teacher quieted them down._

_"Tell us what you like about your best friend, Dean," Sister Ursula encouraged from behind her desk. "Why is he special to you?"_

_"I don't think I have enough time to tell you all about him," Dean smiled and tugged at the bottom of his sweater. "But he's a real angel, like the ones in the Bible and his eyes are blue like the sky because that's where he came from."_

_"Does he have wings?" asked a very small Dorothy at the time who was always vocal in class. "You know, to fly…"_

_"His trench coat is his wings in disguise," Dean said with his green eyes wide as saucers. "He's so awesome and he lives in a castle in the trees with dragons in the attic."_

_…………._

_"Where is he?" Castiel said, his face lined with worry as he brushed down the hallway and found Mrs. Holmes just about to open the door to a classroom. "I came as soon as I could."_

_"I knew you would, Mr. Novak," she smiled wryly at his unsettled disposition before pushing open the door. "He's in there. Poor thing seemed to have the flu so I separated him from the rest of the class." She admired his quick entry into the classroom before he stopped to consider Dean who had his head buried into his folded arms. "Thirteen and still a big baby. He just wouldn't move until you came for him."_

_"I'm here," Castiel said softly, closing the distance between him and the ruffled dark blonde hair of the teenager before raking his fingers through those locks. "Come on," he gently took his arm and helped Dean up, collecting the green duffel bag in the process. "Let's get you home."_

_But in the hallway, even with a protective arm wrapped around his waist, the teenager groaned in protest before trying to escape. "I'm disgusting right now. You shouldn't touch me. I'll get all my vomit on your coat."_

_"Don't be ridiculous," Castiel tugged him in closer and chuckled. "In case you didn't know, you've actually thrown up on me several times when you were a baby so this isn't anything compared to that. And by the way, why did you come to school although you weren't feeling well this morning?"_

_Dean sighed before offering a shrug with lowered eyes as they pushed through the double doors leading outside into the sunshine. "I had the Science test, remember? The one you stayed up late with me studying for. And I needed to pass it because you worked so damn hard."_

_"What have I told you about using that word?" Castiel scolded with the tilt of his head and a smile. "Hmm? The word damn is only to be used by your father. It's his word."_

_………………_

_"I'm sorry I'm calling. Are you in a meeting?"_

_Castiel glanced around at his clients before signaling to them to pause the conversation. "Dean, yes I am but what is it? Are you alright?"_

_A long sigh and then a sniff on the other line. "No, Cas," came the hoarse reply obviously affected by a round of crying. "I'm still at school."_

_Immediately leaving his desk and finding the hall, the older man's concern rose. "It's almost six. You were supposed to be home more than two hours ago. Dean, what happened?"_

_"Can you come get me?" the worried tone deepened. "I can't walk through the forest because it's dark and you know how I'm scared. It's not like I want to be but I just can't do it without you."_

_He found a haggard looking fifteen year old hugging his knees on the front steps of the school less than twenty minutes after. By then Castiel's clients were sent away and promised to return the next day. When he collected Dean's books and the two of them walked down the road towards the bright purple convertible driven by Balthazar, the teenager sighed and turned to Castiel._

_"Him? I told you to come alone."_

_"Whilst I would love to drive right now, my car is in your father's shop and you're not the only one terrified of the forest at night. So my brother was there."_

_"I don't like him. You know that." Dean swung his bag into the backseat and then his leg followed, shortly by the other._

_"Touche," Balthazar smiled despite the criticism and he fired up the engine. "And here I was about to take you for some ice cream."_

_"I'm not a baby," Dean's irritation showed, folding his arms in the backseat and then wincing from the pain in his ribs. "Cones aren't for dudes."_

_Castiel though, didn't miss the reaction and he narrowed those blue eyes before glancing at his brother who swung the convertible onto the street and blasted them towards the trail leading home._

_"Wait a minute," Castiel stopped Dean just before he could escape into the house and again, the grimace on his face signaled something deeper being concealed. "Can you tell me why you're most obviously in pain right now? And why you needed to stay back so late?" and when a reply wasn't given but downcast eyes, he lifted Dean's chin up so that they could look at each other. "I came when you called. The least you could do is show me some respect by telling me the truth."_

_"I got into a fight, okay?" allowing his bag to fall to the grass, Dean huffed out a sigh and shook his head. "It's not a big deal because I did detention for it already. Stupid Justin and his gang."_

_"Why was there a fight between you and this…gang?"_

_"Because they kept calling me names. I'm just done with all of it right now."_

_Castiel was frowning as he collected Dean's face between his palms and was instantly deprived of a further scrutiny when distance was created between them._

_"Please don’t treat me as if I'm not worthy of knowing what happened to you," he said softly, "you're quite aware of how much I care and if there's anything I can help with then—"_

_"How are you going to stop them from calling me a fag, huh? Are you going to walk in there and use your angel powers and shut them up? What can you do that will stop them from bullying me just because I'm book smart and I pay attention in class?"_

_"Dean, I had no idea that—"_

_"You made me like this! Okay? You keep filling my head with books and stuff that guys don't usually do. Guys play basketball and get dirty and screw up their grades. They don't focus on getting straight As and learning about the freaking history of the West Indies and all that crap." Angrily batting away tears, Dean bent over to retrieve his bag, face contorting from pain and he glared at Castiel before shaking head._

_"So you're going to be angry with me because I just want you to be a good person?" Castiel's voice strained as the convertible idled in the driveway. "Because I want you to grow up to be accomplished instead of wayward? Those boys…" he gestured towards the distance whilst keeping their eyes connected, "are going to experience challenges you never will because you're far too smart and amazing and talented. But blame me for keeping your best interests at the front of my mind."_

_The silence filled a full two minutes before Dean toed the ground and his shoulders slumped. "I just want to be normal."_

_Castiel sighed, nodded and licked his lips before gazing into green orbs. "You're never going to be normal because you are extraordinary and I don't spend so much time modeling you into such an admirable young man because it's not necessary. You've always claimed that you would like to be like me when you grow older. I didn't become like this without hardships and late nights studying and giving up all the thrills young people love to revel in. I made sacrifices."_

_"So what if I'm not strong like you?" Dean raised his eyebrows and studied Castiel's face intently. "What if this is too much for me and I'm not cut out to do this? What if I screw this up and I don't make you proud? Will you consider me as one big disappointment?"_

_"You are strong, it's what you're capable of handling and you're allowed to screw things up. It's part of learning. Also, I will always be proud of you. Now how are we going to explain your bruises to your father? Your face is becoming swollen and you can hardly bend your right arm."_

_Dean turned his face towards the front door and appeared frightened for a few seconds before inhaling deeply. "I'm going to tell him that I fell down whilst running laps. He already thinks I'm soft and a pansy so—"_

_"Dean!" Castiel's raised voice stunned the teenager who widened his green eyes immediately. "Stop belittling yourself like that. Your father may be very wrong about your character, but I most certainly will not allow you to speak like that."_

_"Balth is throwing a fit, bye," and without furthering their conversation, Dean hustled up to the front porch and rang the doorbell but he groaned when Castiel waved his brother off and followed towards the front door. "Stop stalking me, man. You're going to make people think that you're really my guardian angel or something."_

_"I am your guardian angel," said the older man and carefully pulling the bag away, he followed up by collecting Dean's armful of books before reaching out to push up those black framed glasses. "I think you took our life quo a little too far this time though. When I said to always keep fighting, I didn't mean by throwing punches."_

_"Blame is on you for not thinking about the loopholes," and ducking away from a hand reaching out to grab him, Dean dashed into the house._

_………………_

_“Hi, Cas,” came the familiar voice that completely knocked Castiel out of his slumber on the back porch. He was tired from gardening and had taken a seat before dropping into a doze. “My angel. Wakey wakey.”_

_“Shit,” the older man sat up groggily and stared into the wide green eyes of a spritely sixteen-year-old who was always budding with energy enough to run a few laps. “What time is it?”_

_Dean checked his watch, decked out in a black armless tank and faded blue jeans and he chuckled. “Almost five, and about an hour away from our movie night.”_

_“Oh god, it’s Sunday. How can it be…” rising from the wicker chair and trying to gather his balance, Castiel stared around wildly before his blue orbs settled on the disturbed fresh earth and the idling clay pots. “I must be growing senile. Goodness, I hope this isn’t an early coming of Alzheimer’s.”_

_Sighing, Dean closed the distance and rested a comfortable hand on the older man’s back, a gesture that caused their eyes to meet. “You’re just tired, that’s all. You’ve been working so long these days, it’s no wonder the week’s slipping away from you. Which is why…” he pulled open the backdoor and gestured inside, “you need shower before we watch TCM.”_

_“The pots,” Castiel said, wringing his hands and turning to consider the damage done to his garden. “I can’t just leave them there—”_

_“I’ll fix it up for you,” Dean said softly, “it’s no bother to me, and besides, I know a thing or two about gardening that you taught me oh so well. So…” he gave the older man a soft shove indoors, “in you get.”_

_Castiel was just coming out of the shower upstairs, drying his wet hair when he happened to glance out the window. There, completely exhilarated and laughing gaily was Dean, dashing through the tall weeds of grass. He was chasing one of the rabbits, flattening the grass as he moved and after scooping the pet into his arms, his eyes upturned to locate Castiel._

_For a small space in time Dean’s smile faltered, until the older man realized that his chest was exposed and after waving quickly, he ducked out of sight. Dean though, quite captivated by his senses, smiled fondly to himself before a shake of his head and then he returned to trekking across the moor._

_………………._

_“What was it like?”_

_“To what?” Dean turned around, the sponge still sudsy and lingering on the nose of the car and he smiled at Castiel, “screw Jo in the Impala? Hmm,” he shrugged up at the clear blue sky on a beautiful Sunday morning, “not too comfy although there’s space but…”_

_“I was asking about your presentation in English, you ass,” Castiel shook his head and considered a laughing eighteen-year-old who was hell-bent on mocking him. “How was it?”_

_“Good. Scary at first but I grooved into it. Felt like I was a natural after a minute or two. I’m pretty good at poetry.”_

_“You are,” the older man sat on the stone bench, trench coat flapping in the wind behind him and he continuously gazed at Dean who was quite aware of the scrutiny. “You are entirely gifted in many things.”_

_“Physically mostly,” turning around and displaying himself, he proudly smiled back at Castiel before winking. “What you think, huh? Am I pleasing enough to tie down any girl?”_

_Sighing, the older man cast his gaze out into the moor but his face flushed considerably because for the first time in forever, he guiltily studied Dean and felt something so new. It was terrifying to sit there and happen across a feeling blooming inside of his chest, attaching itself to the transformation of someone he sheltered and schooled into a young man who was beyond attractive._

_“Cool,” Dean said sullenly and returned to soaping up Baby, his mood dampened by the lack of a response. “Maybe I’m not good looking. I get that. But it wouldn’t hurt you to lie. Besides, not all of us are as gorgeous as you are, you know?”_

_“Dean, what are you going on about?” Castiel finally caught himself and stared back. “Of course you are tremendously…merited in terms of your appearance. But that isn’t for me to ascertain out loud when you have a wealth of ladies justifying your attractiveness.”_

_“I just wanted you to say it.”_

_“Say what?” the older man frowned and watched Dean dip the sponge into the soapy water contained in a red bucket by his feet._

_“That you think I’m attractive. I dunno,” shrugging, the younger man went around the car and started working on the back, ducking out of sight. “It’s stupid, don’t worry about it, man.”_

_“You are beautiful,” Castiel slipped the words from his lips and clamped them shut immediately before turning away as green eyes latched onto him._

_Dean stared back, holding his breath and then he swallowed hard before blinking. “So are you,” he said simply, feeling lightheaded. “Jesus, Cas, this is so gay but I’m just going to come right out and say that if I was a girl, I’d have the hots for you. Like…seriously—”_

_“I think I may head back home now,” Castiel rose suddenly and checked his watch, “I have a lunch party at two and I’d hate to be unprepared for them. Arrangements, hmm?” his voice dipped as their gaze became too intense._

_“Yeah, you do that,” Dean nodded, feeling out of sorts, “and here I was thinking that I’d spend Valentine’s Day with my best friend…who happens to be my Valentine. But no biggie.”_

_“Dean…” Castiel stared back in awe because he must have completely forgotten that it was indeed the 14 th of February. Many things slipped his mind after being buried under work. “I am terribly sorry about not recognizing what today is. And besides,” he dared a scoff and provided an abundance of smiles, “why am I your Valentine when your girlfriend is automatically the first candidate?”_

_Wiping the hood of the car slowly, eyes lowered and shoulders slumped, Dean shrugged. “She isn’t. No one ever will claim first place but you, Cas. Thought you knew that already.”_

_Stunned by the honesty, the older man could only stare as his world turned upside down despite his struggles to evade the newfound feelings. “Yes, but romantically speaking—”_

_“It ain’t Jo,” Dean said simply, moving around the Impala and completely avoiding a scrutiny to be conducted on his countenance. “Never been too into someone to consider it romantic. And so what? Huh? What is romance really? Buying chocolates and roses for some girl who likes me because I look good on her arm? I’d rather buy you chocolates and roses because at least you’d appreciate the meaning of those.”_

_“I would,” Castiel said softly, backing away and feeling behind him for the latch on the gate, his heartrate increasing by the minute. He felt trapped and burdened by an immoral feeling that could not be anything but unacceptable. “Now I must go because—”_

_“Your lunch date,” Dean sighed, and finally their eyes latched onto each other, his own dull as if the fascination which was there all day had died away. “Yeah, I get it. Why don’t you come right out and tell me you’re seeing someone? That there’s some lady you’re going to have lunch with…and just spare me the dramatics. Friends,” he shook his head, picked up the bucket and headed in the opposite direction. “Have a good one, buddy.”_

_“Dean…” Castiel watched the younger man’s footsteps hasten and he started after him but stopped because what could he possibly provide except anything but the truth?_

_That afternoon when he wandered out of the dining room and bid farewell to the guests who drove away in clouds of dust, he entered the large living room and stopped. There, lying on the three cushioned sofa was an arrangement of fresh roses, and a large gift set of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. The note which attached itself to both of them only bore five words:_

_You’ve put a spell on me._

_………………………….._

_The door was pushed open so fast, that it flapped back and broke the silence in the house and as he strode into the living room, Castiel's eyes were already leaking with angry tears._

_Angry at himself, at his inability to control it, of knowing all these years that he was falling and still never grasping self-control to just break away._

_This couldn't be happening to him. Not like this. Not when he spent almost five years keeping such a thing a secret and then that very same day, the words just slipped out._

_This is not the man I'm in love with._

_"Fuck!" he cried out, possibly grabbing the attention of the staff but never caring._

_Castiel grab a glass from the bar and weakly reached for a bottle of something. Some kind of poison that would break his mind apart further, so that the truth would seep into the spaces and disappear for just a short time. He needed that kind of break which would be prolonged because he couldn't stomach what was happening to him._

_It had been five complete years since and at Dean's twentieth birthday party, Castiel stared at the younger man and realized that he was on his way towards his own demise. He was falling in love so fast, the very thought of it made the hate grow and fester because it wasn't normal. It wasn't normal to realize that he would have to spend the rest of his life searching for someone else who would have to do as a second option. Because it would always be Dean who consumed his heart, whether he wished to love him more than a best friend or just as a best friend, there was nothing else that made sense._

_He could never do it._

_He would have to live in hell and learn to be contented with it._

_Castiel smashed his glass into the fireplace and growled before flinging himself onto the chair. From there, he wildly raked those trembling fingers through his hair before rolling over and collapsing into a heap on the floor. Crying, sobbing, unearthing weak, hoarse sobs that never quite emanated from him because he never crumbled easily but now…_

_He was considering himself as a failure, a disgusting form of a man, a terrible monster who needed to drink until he possibly never woke up. Or he could complete it faster by taking an excess of sleeping pills. He could suffocate himself inside of the car. He could drink many things to ease the pain. He couldn’t continue to live like that._

_Dean would be heartbroken though. The hero he always looked up to as someone who resembled a superhero and the embodiment of an angel, killing himself? That would be tragic. That would be like the ultimate conclusion where he no longer understood how his role model accepted defeat and left him all alone. And then Castiel would create more pain than relief because of something so selfish._

_No, he needed to persevere, to swallow his feelings and continue to be there whilst distancing himself mentally._

_They fought, they argued so heatedly until he just couldn't control himself and the truth simply slipped out so easily…_

_Almost as if he could never keep it inside for any longer because he was dying._

_He felt like he was going to die._

_He needed to leave, go somewhere, anywhere._

_…………………_

Dean was in the group of family that passed down the hallway and approached the front door at a quarter to eight that evening. He kept latching onto Castiel's presence and somehow felt relieved that after the older man resurfaced from disappearing, he seemed a little less angry than before. He was still consuming wine though, generous amounts which generated worry enough because of his inability to stop. And he would develop a slight headache, as Dean was all too familiar with because he was familiar with many things about Castiel.

The slump of his shoulders when he embraced defeat, like he was definitely displaying in that moment as John opened the front door of the Impala. The inability to maintain eye contact with someone for more than two seconds before glancing away, obviously because he was afraid of showcasing how weakened his composure was at that point. Also the bitten lips and tugging at the wrists of his sweater, nervous habits. And the low, very low tone used that was barely audible and very much broke Dean into pieces.

Castiel was not okay, derailed by something sinister that was slowly poisoning him within.

When Dean decided to approach the driver's side of the Impala, as his brother headed to the blue pickup, his heart stayed rooted behind. Even as he leant into the car and fired up the engine, his father's face peered up and shared a worrying look before disappearing again. And what felt like the worst moment of his life in a long time seemed to be when he finally decided to settle behind the wheel, knees weak and head completely spinning, tears burning his eyes and his face contorting from a wave of emotions.

 _He wouldn't come for me_.

Dean sat there trying to breathe, the shards of glass digging into his heart and bringing on a painful chest pain.

_We're over. This is where I've pushed so far that I've fucked it up. The ring is not for me. It's for some other lucky guy who wouldn't screw up, who doesn't have trust issues, who can act mature and can look him after like he's supposed to be looked after. Not me. I'm a mess. I'm a failure. I'm going to be single for the rest of my damn life because I can't make anything stick. I can't keep the man I love with every piece of me in my life…_

"Son, you going or you staying?" John asked quietly, resting a hand on Dean's arm. "Take your time. We'll wait whilst you decide."

"I've decided," and crying already, his throat burning and his hands so cold despite wearing mittens, Dean reached behind the wheel and he almost shifted the car into drive.

Almost until…

The hurried footsteps and crunch of snow under heavy boots. The way his heart stopped beating, his lungs died. The anticipation and the fear of going home. Then the window on his left was suddenly blocked by the color of chocolate brown of a coat all too familiar. And the brush of apples, of vanilla and bergamot, of merlot and Old Spice aftershave.

"Where are you going?" Castiel croaked, gloved hand reaching out to fold over Dean's own gripping the steering wheel. "You'll drive Jody and Donna and your father home and then you'll come back. Hmm?"

The pair in the backseat huddled together, and because they quickly understood the magnitude of the scene unfolding, neither uttered a word but held their breaths. Dean though, stared ahead and blinked quickly through his tears that trailed down his face in the shadowed car and swallowing hard, he couldn't look at him because then he would start crying a river.

 _This wasn't happening_.

It was a nightmare, a terrible nightmare he would wake up to on Boxing Day, in the comfort of those warm arms and then they would make love. The pulling away of his glass, the slight about keeping secrets, the inability of understanding that he honestly forgot to mention Claire's arrival, the little painful remarks and glares, the lost opportunity of dancing together whilst everyone else did.

"I want to come with you," Castiel said weakly, still holding onto those hands that were like icicles inside of wool. “There is no other way I’m allowing this—"

"No," the short reply was hoarse and final.

"Dean…" the older man said before the car started to roll forward on snow crunching and his hands still wouldn't let go of the steering wheel, of those fingers which weren't reaching for him. "Dean! Stop! Don't leave me. Don't you dare—" Castiel choked on a sob before the Impala stopped and both of them breathless and shaking, their eyes connected before the older man's lips quivered.

Dean felt so ignorant in that moment, so self-centered because he finally embraced the actuality of giving up as much as he could to someone who was not contented. He could have ripped his heart out, and delivered it on a platter to Castiel and still the gesture wouldn’t be enough. But it wasn’t like he was prepared to terminate their relationship, and because of that string binding them together, such a fragile bond, the connection of their eyes weakened him until he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore.

"Why are you doing this?" Castiel’s words tumbled over like water bubbling in a stream. “Dean?”

“What the hell am I doing to you? The younger man stared back through his tears, completely aware of the company inside the car observing everything. “Huh? You’re the one who keeps making this hard—”

“I’m not!” Castiel cried hoarsely, gripping the frame of the window and blindly tossing his stare around the winter white landscape before considering those darkened green eyes again. “All I’m asking is for you to trust me—”

“I trust you!”

“No, you don’t, you really don’t Dean, you…” the older man’s gloved hand attempted to reach out and caress such a perfect jawline in his eyes but he held back. “You’re afraid of what this means. You’re holding back. I know that I'm not perfect and I'll fuck this up constantly and I'll say the wrong things. I'll be the one who makes you cry when I don't mean to and I'll…" he whimpered, completely losing his ability to stay leveled. "I'll blame you for things that you don't deserve to be blamed for. I'll make you angry, so angry with me and you'll do the same. But I love you," he rushed out weakly, gripping the door and staring. "Dean Winchester, I'll always love you, okay? More than myself."

The silence that returned was also filled with the younger man wallowing in his emotions, dying inside and softening at the same time.

"I can't live without you," Castiel whispered, reaching up weakly to palm away his tears. "So, I don't care who knows or how awful this sounds, but I'll keep coming for you over and over again until I…die."

Dean though was far too constipated to form words that would provide a response and so he rigidly sat there with a million doubts and still could not cement any kind of action.

"Jesus," John said after he simply had enough and leaning forward, he sighed, "look son, get your ass back in the house and I'll drive Jody and Donna home then myself."

"No," the younger man said hoarsely, shaking his head before licking his lips and tasting his tears. "No, I can't let you go out there by yourself. Not so late down those dangerous roads."

"Dean, this is where you need to decide whether you will man up and take care of your own or leave it all behind," John said firmly. "And I'll be damned if you let something stupid ruin what makes you happy. He makes you happy, happier than anyone else and you just can't act the fool when something bruises your damn ego. You hear me, boy?"

Loud and clear. But he couldn't move, or speak or do anything else other than focus on driving because there was a destination and his mind needed a plan. He couldn’t focus on those accusations on his trust issues, on the deliberate attempt to unarm him of his ignorance and replace it with guilt. He couldn’t sit there and fall prey to the honesty when he was quite certain that if his heart hurt, then the feeling was justified.

"John," Castiel's voice broke further, "can you let me…sit next to him? I need to…"

With a grunt, the older man pushed open the door and joined the couple in the backseat and they were left to stare in anticipation at the hunched figure of Dean who refused to move. He was supposed to return home, and then die slowly inside his own bed. Alone. Cold and alone. That was the plan. Until Castiel rounded the car, pulled open the door and came in with such a haste that the flurry of movement began and ended even before Dean could gather his thoughts. And as the pickup crawled away, the twins' faces pressed to the window, the Impala backed up the driveway and went in the other direction.


	20. Chapter 20

**Excerpt:**

_"I'm missing all the fun," Castiel said, laughing from the other end as the younger man deposited the cookies next to the twins with a scowl. "Dean, you ain't too old just because you got a man now," he drawled Ellen's sentence out before snorting. "If she only knew that your cock has been up my ass."_

_"Oh my god!" Dean tumbled into the window seat laughing so hard, tears streamed down his face. "How could you even say that?"_

* * *

When the Impala nosed its way into the Winchester's front yard, Dean literally felt the urge to plant roots because the actuality of diminishing the passengers one by one until there were only two left suddenly overwhelmed him….

The distance between them in the front seat was painful, and Castiel would not cease gazing onto the younger man's disposition, almost as if he was trying to communicate. But their profound bond wasn't that celestial, their feelings could be read easily by anyone though and no matter how difficult it was to initiate a conversation, they both suffered from the silence. They both hummed after Jody and Donna engaged them in topics to serve as a distraction and after depositing the pair by their front door, Dean didn't hesitate in driving away.

He wanted to go home but didn't know where that was anymore.

It was never confirmed that they would spend more than one night in Castiel's bed, and because the offer was still pending, Dean earlier decided that by default he would return home. Until the crunching of snow and the window being blocked by that beautifully expensive chocolate colored leather jacket. And now he was sitting next to someone who was beginning to open up a different side to him, one which Dean had never witnessed before in his entire life.

The traffic lights all thought that there was a need to stall the journey though, presenting red continuously and after some time passed, he reached for the knob and turned on the radio. But Castiel instantly flipped the music off, sinking into his slumped shoulders and posture reflective of drowning in too much emotions all at once.

In that moment, they tasted the static between them, the raw sense of energy that emanated from a disagreement which sparked up flares from their chemistry. And it was so ethereal and dangerous, like they were both standing so close to a live wire which would kill whatever bloomed between them thus far immediately.

All it took was one wrong sentence to be strung out and the boat would continue to sink, the possibility of dying out so fast vexed Dean so much that he couldn’t believe how fragile love could become. He couldn’t understand how they could have perfect moments that were suffocating from bliss, promises and dreams and then all of it could die in an instant. All of the times they gazed at each other and believed that true love existed, their songs together, their unspoken poetry of love. And now all Dean felt was his heart racing, especially after the instance of them both resting their hands down on the seat provided enough clarity that the inch of space between their fingers was like fate.

It happened so suddenly and at the same time, as if their bodies were calling out to each other, their pores were screaming to be touched, their lips felt thirsty for kisses and certain parts of them ached, a dull throbbing ache.

For Dean though, what frightened him the most was how his pent-up emotions built into a painful erection that strained inside of his jeans. His cock wedged between the soft fabric of tights and his left hip was aching for release, and when he glanced down and noticed the definite outline, he inhaled deeply before glancing at Castiel.

The older man could not have noticed the evident bulge because he was turned the other way, curled up into the corner by the window and silent.

Dean thought how fragile he appeared as compared to normally, those arms straining the sleeves of leather, the grey barely hinted in dark brown hair and the expanse of smooth skin upon his neck. The black gloved hand resting next to Dean's own mittened ones, the soft scents of Castiel… _Castiel's_ scents that were intoxicating and unique in their combination. And everything was so breathtaking about him, so sexy and perfect that there was nothing awfully wrong about the picture…

Until the raspy intakes of breath became pronounced, and very soon, the actuality of his sobs, shaking and emanating from deep within his soul filled the car. In that moment, Dean couldn't function anymore, driving became like a task presented to a toddler, his foot became so numb that the gas pedal disappeared and all the world around them, the darkened forest on either side of the trail didn’t exist anymore. Not when Castiel cried without holding back, burying his face into the seat and killing Dean faster than ever before because he never really experienced such a reaction.

He never witnessed the demise of the older man in such a fashion, where he simply gave into the feelings ravishing him and uprooted the belief that he could be stronger than most people. Castiel was always the one who stood tall with certainty, composure that resembled granite, lack of tears even when sad news enveloped their family, and the ability to build Dean up when he was the one that constantly crumbled.

Now though, there were no harsh words between them anymore and no slights that burned earlier, but immediately he stopped the car, not caring where they were down the trail and after releasing his foot from the pedal, he slid across the seat.

Hesitantly though, he reached out and touched the older man's slumped shoulder, the feel of the brown leather heated from an exertion of too much emotions. "Babe," his voice was dulled to a croak, gloved fingers peeling away the collar of the jacket, "hey, don’t cry."

Castiel continued to though, and offered no speeches, as he was always abundantly prepared to deliver.

"Huggy bear," Dean said softly, pressing his fingers into warmth and comfort on smooth leather again and again. "it's going to be okay."

"It's not," the other man whispered, shaking his head and straining out a sound that bruised the delicate love between them. "It…hurts."

"I know," disregarding his decision to remain distant, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist, the other snaking around his neck and he simply folded into the scent of Old Spice. Burying his face gingerly into the older man's neck, he raked his fingers through dark brown hair too tousled to ever remain neat and literally felt Castiel let out a long, deep sigh. "I know it hurts. It really does. But it…" he rubbed his wet cheeks onto the feel of smooth leather and sniffed, "…it doesn't mean we're falling apart or we're over. It's just a little bump, you know? Like you said, we'll get mad, and fight and yell maybe, and cry but we'll always fall back into place."

"But," the older man turned into strong arms that contained him and rubbed their cheeks together before balling his fists into the comforting feel of Dean's sweater, his voice becoming hoarser as he fought the urge to drown in anger again. "How could you do that to me? How could you decide…that you would leave…if you drove away and left…"

"I thought you wanted me to."

"You're not supposed to, no matter how much I push you away."

"Cas, you kept hitting me with nothing but silence and I was so sure you didn't want me to stick around—"

"No!" Castiel cried into the younger man's neck, pushing himself into the warmth they were creating and perhaps riding on a wave of sadness and frustration. "I'm…utterly conflicted right now and I hate the bad conversations and the glares and holding my breath and feeling like I'm failing and—"

"I felt the same. I felt like you wanted to hurt me."

"Why would I ever want to do that?" Castiel croaked, staring in bewilderment into green eyes. "Is that what you think of me? That I'd willingly decide to wound you?"

Dean bit back his tears and felt his throat ache terribly. "Sometimes…I just feel…like I deserve it, like I need to feel what I've put you through all these years."

"You cannot decide that my actions would be so brutal to deliver such harshness onto you. I would never seek pain instead of love and no matter what happens, you're supposed to believe me. You're supposed to believe that I care and—"

"Shh," running his fingers through the older man's hair and pressing his face deeper into the nape of his neck, Dean cried softly before the night began to close in on them, the blackness and the actuality of being out there alone. But he didn't care, not really, because he wasn't alone. They were together and no matter what happened, they were on the mend again, this time, a lot more painful than before but quick at healing.

"You're…hard," Castiel croaked, his gloved fingers settling on the bulge in Dean's pants and blinking through his tears. "And wet—" He drifted his hand lower until the gentle massage created by his palm was very much effective. "Let me make the pain go away."

"Cas, don't…" moaning and squirming in their embrace, the younger man breathed through his parted lips as the outline of his cock was traced with bold fingertips slowly. "Please…I'm going to make a mess and I have to drive. Can't do that if I can't feel my damn legs."

The night was so bitter and cold, like an enemy who wanted to freeze them to death. The trees weren’t swaying anymore, but remained so still, like silent observers.

"Okay." His words were so brief because of the evident weakened disposition that Castiel could only remain in Dean's embrace when the Impala started moving again. "I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Don't be like that," completely wrapped in a hug that was practically consuming his entire body, Dean sighed before using one hand to steer and the other to hold the most precious bundle in his life.

"Don't be like what? Sensitive and cranky? Dominant and pushy?"

"Cas—" Dean frowned because the older man sounded so out of character that he began to worry immensely. In fact, he was becoming familiar with the bottles of wine and how they emptied, resting on the table like reminders of how hurtful the day had been.

"Moody, ridiculous, impatient, strange, ignorant, the worst father—" Castiel continued, his voice cracking more as the string of words continued that caused the other man's heart to fall. "The worst boyfriend who doesn't let you drink, or cares too much about you, pays attention to the smallest things, the stupidest things, treats you like a child…"

"You done now?" Dean croaked, his eyes burning from tears because the repercussions of the day's events seemed to be poisoning both of them more and more and he couldn't breathe freely anymore. He just couldn’t relax because this heavy weight was hanging above his head like a dark cloud.

"No. We're having a chick flick moment." Turning his head sideways, Castiel entwined their gloved fingers and stared at the path the car took through the trees, the lights ahead signaling the driveway leading towards the Winchester's house. They were numerous because of John's fear of thieves sneaking around the grounds. "I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure, Cas."

"I can't even make you laugh. All I keep doing is making you cry…"

"Don't say those things, okay?" Dean's throat ached from the painful words and he blinked through tears. The road was darkening and shadowed and the coldness crept into the car despite the heater turned on full blast.

Of all the times to fight with each other, to fall into a sink hole which threatened to envelope them in a thick blackness, it had to be on the road. It had to be after what was supposed to be a lovely Boxing Day spent with family, where there was an abundance of laughter. Now, they were both wrecked until they couldn’t untangle from each other because of fearing the worse; that one of them would leave for good.

Castiel's eyes were wide and staring. "Dean, the aliens are watching us." He splayed out his gloved fingers and gasped. “Be cautious of flying disks.”

"Cas, you're scaring me, man."

"Blame it on the fucking wine then. Fuck your stupid UFO theories, and the Bermuda Triangle and making me buy a smartphone so that we could communicate, which you hardly text or call me on," pressing his mouth to the shell of Dean's right ear, Castiel clipped the other man's earlobe between his lips and sucked until a soft moan was unearthed. "I'm tipsy. I drank…two bottles and whisky."

"I thought you were a blotting paper. You getting high is as rare as my dad consuming cake. And my theories aren't stupid and you know it," Dean sighed as he tried to turn the steering wheel into the driveway but Castiel reached out and kept the car on the trail leading in the opposite direction. "What the hell are you—"

"Don't take me home. Please just…take me somewhere else that's not where we always are so that I…Dean stop laughing at me."

"You're so adorable when you're high, I can't help it. I've never been with you when you're like this…" the younger man chuckled through his tears, his chest feeling hollow and his head growing lighter.

"Blame it on you for making me try to drown myself in merlot so that I could stand in front of all those fucking people and not break down crying."

"Shit," Dean instantly sucked in his humor and guided the Impala down the path until they were rolling past the Novak estate and towards the trail leading to the village. He was slightly thankful that it was the wine, but still very much worried about the ease in which the truth slipped through the cracks and escaped from Castiel's lips. So indeed the feelings had been mutual, the suffocating pain and excruciating tension of being in the midst of everyone and having to forcefully pretend that everything was normal. "Yeah, I overreacted."

"Are you going to scream if I bite you?"

"Huh?"

The feel of teeth grazing harshly over his neck caused Dean to stiffen as he highlighted the railing bracketing off the edge of the cliff from the tumble downwards. Even before he could park the car properly, in a space which was so familiar from his wild nights with Benny and the gang, Castiel was sucking hard enough to leave marks.

It was a little reminiscent of bringing Lisa out there, the two of them necking in the car that Dean smiled before pushing the memory far behind because she could never curl his toes like the older man. He was skillful, biting down and soothing the bruise with his tongue over and over again and after turning off the engine, Dean relaxed in his seat and those green eyes fluttered close as he moaned deeply.

The pain though, was something new and he understood where all of the determination arose from, deep down inside Castiel that was hurting, that was still bruised. But there was something else buried inside the older man though, something which drifted to the surface now that he was intoxicated…a new and dominant side. The wilder side which suggested that he wasn't so sophisticated to the core, but very much open to lovemaking which entertained roughness by pining Dean's arms down to his side as he sucked and trailed kisses.

By the time they were seated on the front of the car, no space allowed between them but their hands hanging between parted legs, the silence stretched out again. The absence of words all of a sudden after there were so many tumbling out of Castiel's lips felt strange, especially in his drunken state. So constantly Dean anticipated the resumption of their conversation which contained a certain amount of depth that became worrying because of the loose tongue. And the more he feared the rest of what may be revealed, the more he longed for it until a soft sigh escaped his lips.

His neck was aching, brushed by the collar of the jacket and then becoming numbed by the winter air which gradually became chased away by a warmth drifting up from the rocks below. The White Mountains spread out beautifully in front of them, the peaks closer and whitened against the blanket of velvet and somewhere midway, someone had a fire going. The cottages in the village leading up to the base of the mountains sprinkled the night with lights of lamps burning in windows. And the ambience the soft oldies drifting from the Impala was so relaxing to Dean that he also felt Castiel melt into his right side.

"My mother was an alcoholic," he said softly, tilting his head into Dean's shoulder and gazing at the view which wasn't exactly focused on but became hazy because of his thoughts. "Her addiction turned her into a fucking monster that hated my father until he was chased away. But she used to love him once. Before she started liking cocktails more than _cock._ "

Blinking as if suddenly seeing clearer, Dean swallowed before the truth dawned upon him, but he remained silent because space was granted for the older man to elaborate as much as he wished to.

"I acted on impulse today because I was terrified. I was… scared that you would start swallowing alcohol and turn into my mother and then you would turn against me and hurt me like she constantly hurt me and my father. She would hit me…repeatedly. Burn me with her cigars. Lock me and Anna up in the basement if we watched cartoons or played outside. She would fucking… _starve_ us," Castiel's voice cracked more and he fisted his hands then stared at them, "and wake us up by throwing hot water on our beds if we only overslept."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean's eyes filled with tears and he realized that once intoxicated, the older man frequently swore, which was something he never allowed, unless they were tangled in passion during making love. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," he tried to reach for Castiel's fists but decided not to because he was somehow consumed inside a bubble which could not be penetrated. "Now I know why you took the damn glass away from me."

"Yes. Now you know. Now you will also become familiar with the jealousy I felt today after learning that Claire prefers you over me—"

"Cas, that's not true and you know it."

"She's told me that constantly," Castiel said weakly, splaying his fingers and holding them up, "and I'm ashamed of that kind of jealousy because you're the best father any child can ever ask for. You're understanding and you're less sophisticated and you allow her the opportunity to fuck up because she can only learn from her mistakes if she's allowed to make her own choices. My dad…was like you," he proudly beamed at Dean whilst swaying a little, "Zachariah let us run around like hooligans in the rain and we caught colds, scraped our knees, ate too much candy, snuck out to parties whilst Naomi didn't spare the rod. She was sensitive and asked too many questions, caged us in and I'm just like her when it comes to parenting my own daughter. Fuck, I'm…" Castiel stared at his hands as if the very sight of his gloved hands terrified him, "I'm turning into Naomi."

"You're nothing like her," Dean corrected in a stiff tone because his hatred for a woman he never met only deepened after learning that she abused her children. "You're just trying to be a great father and your way of doing that means being protective. Which isn't so bad. I think it's necessary because she's been allowed to be wild and carefree and when she's out there, anything can happen to her. And you kind of rein her in, you know? You ask questions because you want to know what's going on because you don't want her to get hurt."

"We make great fathers, hmm? We fuck _and_ complement each other."

Dean nodded and sighed because the loose tongue was very sexy but also filled him with a kind of raw anticipation, "I'm glad you see it like that, because I'm not trying to get in the way of you and your daughter. She's yours, not mine."

"You're my baby daddy so," Castiel slurred a little in a soft and humored tone, "she's your child because we both conceived her. You've had as much a part to play in her earlier days than I did so she's from your loins, in a manner of speaking."

"Damn," Dean whistled in amazement and he glanced at the older man who smiled at the mountains, "first of all, you could swear every second when you're high. Secondly, didn't know I had a uterus but if I could make your babies, I sure would."

"Yes. But I would have to penetrate you first, as biology stipulates and we haven't done that as yet. Which reminds me,” Castiel laughed hoarsely before reaching in between Dean’s legs and capturing exactly what he yearned for. “I'd like to have angry sex with you tonight because I'm still revved up on your insolent behavior and I want to fuck you until you realize that I've said all the things I have today because I care."

Dean blindly stared at the mountains and could feel his gut pooling with warmth as he strained a little more inside his jeans. Leave it to a drunk Castiel to become very bold in terms of his sexual desires and it wasn't as if Dean wasn't thinking the same things or having the same dreams. Constantly, he kept wondering what it would feel like, only leaving the thought like a burning lamp at the back of his mind afterwards.

But he wasn't prepared to approach that kind of intimate act with his partner who had obviously swallowed two bottles of wine. He needed Castiel sober with less use of the word _fuck_ in his general statements and focused eyes instead of glazed over ones before going further.

"So you're still angry with me," he chose to divert the conversation, latching onto the wounds inside of his chest. "Although I did nothing wrong."

"You humiliated me in front of your brother," Castiel said, turning to stare at Dean whilst he appeared wild with tousled hair and an adorable small pout. "You shouldn't have talked to me like that in front of Sam. I don't need him to lose respect for me when I've been so fucking careful."

"I admit, I was out of line." Embracing defeat, the younger man nodded although in the moment when the conversation occurred, he was convinced that the care and concern seemed to be very reflective of an adult speaking to a child.

"And then, you chose to dance with everyone else except me. _Me_ ," Castiel croaked, tears glistening in his blue eyes as he continued to stare into green ones that widened. "Your babe, your darling, your… _huggy bear_. The man you made incredible love to inside the car last night, and in your bed, and in the shower. The man you cannot survive a day without. The man who gave you a fucking blowjob and allows you to ride him. You couldn't dance with _me,_ Dean…and I'm the one who makes you cum."

"Fuck…" Dean's face became so blushed that he turned away, shielded his eyes a bit and gingerly chewed his lips before sighing. The depth was so…intimidating that he was suffocating from this new level reached between them.

"Look at me. I'm the one who you want to be inside of, hmm?" Castiel collected Dean's jaw and his lips danced nearer. "More than any other…woman you've ever been with. You just can't wait to fill me up and feel what it's like to cum inside of me, watching how I react. You've dreamt of it. I know you have."

"Jesus, Cas. Can you…stop?"

The descriptions were detailed, fueled by wine and God knows how much whiskey there was but Castiel was unhinging him deliberately, sitting there so close and refusing to go easy on the penetrating stare. The words digging deeper as time dragged on to eleven in the night, the intention quite clear that he was hoping to have an intense conversation in order to expel the pain but Dean wasn't prepared to drown like that.

"No. I wouldn't."

"Why are you doing this to me, man?" Green eyes filled with tears. "Huh? You want to keep stabbing?"

"I've been in pain for more than half my life so far and I connect to you because you're as broken as I am."

"Okay," turning away and shielding his eyes, the younger man's fingers nervously felt the unruly strands of blonde hair just near his forehead. "Good to know that you get me."

"But do _you_ get _me_? Do you…realize how I've spent sixteen years claiming back my fucking virginity naturally? I've been with other women after Amelia but I couldn't let anyone else touch me. I couldn't even use my hands on myself. And then when I started to fall for you, well that was the worst feeling."

"Why?" Dean's eyes burned from the harsh confession and he stared at the string of lights from the cottages.

"Because every single time I sat next to you on that…small window seat for four years, I wanted you to fuck me," Castiel said hoarsely, his words slurring a little, "I've looked at you in those fucking jeans and wanted to know what you looked like without them."

Breathe…just…focus on breathing.

“The times when I’d watch you wash your car, and your jeans would become wet from the water,” Castiel said, resuming his slow torturous massage with eager fingertips between the younger man’s legs, “and I could see what I wanted and I what I wanted was to touch you, push you up against your car and go down on you…”

Dean shifted uncomfortably and a soft moan escaped from deep within him that shocked his countenance into a look of slight amazement. That daring gloved hand was persistent, so taunting until he was on the verge of coming. And Castiel still rambled on because he obviously couldn't understand what his words were doing because he couldn't see what was happening to the man by his side.

"…twenty and me being forty and my sex drive just kept climbing until I was humping large pillows under my blanket and the wall in the shower. Every thought of you made me so hard during dinner, I needed cups of tea to calm down. Because your ghost filled me up at nights and I even thought of screwing someone else, possibly a man whom I could choose online on one of those sites my brother uses…a hired escort…to fuck me."

"Cas, don't do this, okay?" Dean literally begged in a throaty tone, deciding that if the conversation continued down such a path then he would have to return to the car and jerk himself off. There were tissues in the glove compartment to clean up afterwards and he needed it so badly. He just needed to because his pants were so wet, something which never occurred before and it was like his body was screaming against restraints, oozing the desire through the cracks.

"Why do you want me to…stop?"

"Because you're literally fucking me with your damn hand and your words and it's driving me crazy, okay? Dammit," raking his fingers through his hair, Dean cast his gaze in the opposite direction and wished that he could disappear because the torment was deliberate. He believed that it was. Castiel was trying to get a rise out of him for some reason which wouldn't come to light even if he asked for clarity. And after sitting there and debating what could be the underlying cause of those speeches, he came up with a few theories.

Castiel's desire for sex was ramped up after spending so many years deprived of it.

He was losing control because he was for the first time falling in love and falling hard every single day.

He thought…or constantly believed that someday he would wake up and Dean would be gone.

He thought this was all a dream and he kept spinning in and out, dancing on the flames and being burnt in the most beautiful way, something he never experienced before.

Someone hurt him so badly, Amelia, that she left cracks inside of him which he longed for Dean to fill.

"Look at me," Castiel slurred, patting his face and turning those green eyes onto his own wide ones, "where are you? What are you thinking? This is… _me_ , Dean. This is the…unfiltered forty-five year old asshole you've fallen in love with who is so broken and fucked from life."

"Aren't we both like that though?" Dean struggled to reply as his hands were taken and his fingers squeezed. "I've had my share of blows and so have you. But it doesn't mean that we should hit all the bad parts."

"Who else do you want me to talk about these things with? Do you want me to call Hanna or Charlie and let them comfort me because of my woes?"

"You and your damn sarcasm," Dean shook his head and grimaced, then he swallowed and blinked at the twinkling lights in the mountains. "Why don't you just go right ahead and keep swinging."

"Why didn't you ask me to dance with you?"

 _This_ …whatever it was…was so painful that he felt the actuality of cracked ribs and pieces of glass buried inside of his heart. He understood what love could become and the depth it brought, digging with a shovel until hitting the most sensitive spots and still…there was no comfort. Because Castiel's mind was riding along with alcohol and maybe he wouldn’t have uttered those statements whilst sober, but it was very clear that the feelings were buried deep down inside. Letting them out now seemed to be the wrong time, but in a way it was necessary.

"Because I…thought you were pissed and wouldn't want to dance with _me_ ," Dean said quietly, fearing what else would be revealed. "You're obviously still angry at me for things I had no control of because I didn't know about most of it, and maybe I have my own version of what happened too, so it was kind of hard to make that request and what about you? Huh? Why couldn't you come over and ask me? Why does the burden always have to rest on me? Jesus, Cas," Dean swiped at his tears before staring at the view beyond the cliff that blurred and he wished that they were back inside the mansion where he could roll over in bed and pretend to sleep because he didn't want to have those conversations. They were painful and crumbled his walls and he hated when he felt so raw and exposed. "I want to spend at least a week without feeling like I'm holding my breath because I'll do something shitty. And that's how love is and I like the burn, I know that. But you sometimes make me feel like I'm the one who keeps fucking this up."

"No, I am."

"Where the hell are we headed?"

"Somewhere we've never gone before. I'm good at self-projecting," Castiel said softly, raking his fingers through Dean's hair and settling his fingers behind the younger man's left ear. "Everything I fuck up, I blame you."

Wow. "And that's healthy?" green eyes blinked away tears that trailed down a worried face. "You think that's fair, Cas? I can't keep being a punching bag every single time you feel like you're screwing up. You've always been the one who knows what to do, the one who has his shit together. So why the hell would you feel like I deserve the blame?"

"Because you made me fall in love with you. You…" Castiel tugged Dean's sweater away from his jeans and carded his gloved hand upwards, "made me change my plans of having a normal life where I would be a normal accountant and financial advisor, with a boring wife and spend the rest of my years withering away to nothing."

"I didn't make you fall in love with me."

"Yes, you did."

"How, Cas?" Dean croaked, staring and searching blue eyes. "How could I make you fall for someone like me? Huh?"

"Because you are everything I ever wanted. You're wise beyond your years, funny, humble, tattooed, domesticated, can cook, likes everything spotless, doesn't drink, has a huge heart…you're so sexy and your cock is beautiful and your ass in jeans turns me on," Castiel thumbed Dean's right nipple and his cupped fingers caressed the deep blush settling on the younger man's face. "You're so talented with a guitar, a piano, writing poetry, prose, kids, teenagers, having mature conversations with fucked up adults. Your belief in the extra-terrestrial, supernatural, folklore, all of it just makes me fall so desperately in love with you."

The beauty between those words was so heartwarming that Dean drowned in the moment that followed, whilst Castiel kept running his fingertips across what he claimed to be his _lover's chest_ and tracing every inch whilst reliving those memories of when they were naked.

The feel of Dean's warm back where muscles rippled softly under smooth skin when he flexed his shoulders a little as if unwinding from all the depth of their conversations. The glorifying feeling of Castiel's eyes roaming until he finally sighed before seeking out the front of the younger man's jeans and simply resting his fingers there, he didn't proceed further.

"You don't have words for me. Hmm? I've drained you of them when you're always prepared to provide me with a speech."

"I'm just digesting everything…" Dean parted his legs a little more so that the wandering fingers could be granted better access to prodding.

"I failed Amelia," Castiel said, his eyes resting on the younger man's parted lips. "She's the reason why I'm so damaged too because I gave her everything and she broke me. My body, my wealth, my youth. Dean, do you know what it's like to stare into the eyes of a person who has lost their soul? It's like they reap your own to replace theirs. That's what she did to me, bit by bit, collecting my heart and replacing that space in her chest. And do you know what has kept me alive all these years, despite losing my heart, despite having it ripped out and killed?"

"Hope?" Dean was riding on a euphoric wave that consisted of being touched through his pants until his cock was caged and aching and also the conversation that kept ripping at his chest and mind.

"You," Castiel said, "because everything she took from me, you've replaced. And that's why I've always been so…happy and energetic, apart from my diet, of course. I'm always tapping into your existence and feeding off of it."

"So then you shouldn't come down on me so hard, you know? I'm pretty much your lifeline as you're mine too."

"Yes. Dean?"

"Yeah?" the younger man connected their eyes and searched dark pools of blue that almost appeared like the color of the midnight sky.

Castiel shifted closer and the wind played with the unruly strands of his dark hair. "I don't like the secrets because Amelia concealed many things from me."

"Well I'm not Amelia," Dean was wounded by the use of an ex-wife as a measuring stick when thus far, he felt like his performance as a partner exceeded her reputation. "I'm not a drug addict who stole your money, was pregnant with your kid and wasn't going to tell you about it. I've got my own standards that I set by looking up to you and I'll be damned if you even think that I'm going to wreck you like she did."

"Are you angry at me?" Castiel frowned.

Dean tilted his head and offered the same expression. "Aren't you? So far you're firing away and I don't mind, but just imagine if I did the same thing to you. Then you'd get angrier if I compared you to Jo or Lisa, which I could never do. Or Benny."

"Or Lee."

There it was, the ultimate bomb, of finally wondering if Castiel _could_ really read his mind so fluently because of their profound bond.

"He was _never_ an option," Dean shook his head and his tone sharpened. "Dammit, Cas."

It was always like this. The judgmental glances whenever he returned home late in the evenings. The questions about where he ran off to during the weekends and how he managed to scrape his knees. The constant checkups, with the use of prodding hands upon his face and ruffling his hair until he despised the attention. There were times when he just couldn't be home anymore because Castiel smothered him with a kind of love and affection that was never delivered by his own father. The older man never showed Sam the same kind of admiration and because Dean was favoritized, such things chased him away until he believed that escaping the cage of comfort was blissful.

"Why didn't you want me to know about Lee?" Castiel's voice cracked but his countenance registered only a scowl. "Hmm?"

"It's not like that—"

"Why wasn't I entitled like Benny to know? Why did you give him that privilege over me when I gave you _everything_ , Dean? When I was there for you through all of your fucking drama, I covered for you countless times because you didn't want John to learn the truth, I left meetings and went to collect you at school when you were ill or studied late at the library, or ended up in detention. Why did you put him on a pedestal and bury me in the dirt?"

"I never did that, and you know it," Dean said angrily, the wave of displeasure from being misunderstood riling up quickly. "You were always first priority compared to anyone else but there were times when I just needed to live my damn life. When I needed to be a teenager and do things that you would never let me do."

"Like have sex, use drugs, consume alcohol, get tattoos—"

"Cas, you always wanted me to be perfect and I couldn't breathe sometimes. I couldn't stand it and I just did the things I did because I felt like I needed to prove a point to myself, that I could be reckless like Sam. But going back to Benny, he was _there_ as the wayward asshole who looked after me whilst I made those bad decisions. And I'm not saying that what you were doing by trying to keep me in line was wrong, but it just reached a point where I became frustrated, man. All the pressure on me to get good grades and be perfect was grinding my face in the dirt and Benny was my escape."

"Did you have feelings for him?"

"No!" Dean scowled deeply and sighed, "God, no. You think that I did? Is that why you don’t like him even up to now?" When those blue eyes lowered to consider fingers tugging at gloved ones, the younger man scoffed. "Cas, I never had feelings for another guy. Isn't that obvious to you? You're the first guy I've ever fallen in love with."

"Maybe you fell before but just wasn’t aware of what it meant. Maybe…you glorified Benny because you were. All the times you spent with him instead of me, how you cried when he left town, how it broke you because you couldn't understand why he left…and Lee?"

"I really don't want to do this with you because you're never going to believe me when I keep saying that those guys meant nothing more than friends. Shit, Cas, can you get over it? Can you just focus on what's in front of you right now instead of what the hell happened in my past? I mean, fine," Dean shrugged and shook his head, "not telling you about Lee was something I regret, but I was so ashamed of what happened and I knew you'd get pissed about it and—"

"What happened?" Castiel asked harshly, his tone dipping though as his hands fisted upon his lap and his glare was penetrating. "Tell me, Dean. What did they do to you? You can't expect me to receive the entire story from your brother when he was just a child…"

"Lee kissed me," Dean said regrettably, and wishing not to even elaborate on his past, "okay? That much I’m sure you know by now. He got handsy and we kept going at it—and I didn't want to but it just…felt new and the booze was _there_ so we started getting into it until these guys yanked us off of each other. By that time I was fucked…" he shook his head and the memories were so vivid after all those years. "They dragged me away, gave me a good kicking, did a number on my face and Benny fought them off."

"Like your knight in shining armor," Castiel delivered in a snarky attitude, his eyes still shining from tears and he only received a stare of utter amazement. "Don't look at me like that because I cannot feel better after hearing the words fall from your lips."

"Cas, it was literally ages ago, man—"

"I was responsible for protecting you!"

"And that's the problem right there!" Dean cried hoarsely, tears clouding his eyes, "Cas, you always did and you never let me defend myself. You sheltered me, man. You guarded me so much that I didn’t know how to fight like Sam or bite back or get my hands dirty and that's just how much you loved me. Nothing's wrong with your intentions but it was _me_. I wanted to rebel a little."

"So I'm not supposed to take care of you now, is that what you're asking? Castiel reached up and dabbed at his tears but Dean quickly took those gloved fingers and squeezed them. "I'm not supposed to care or protect you? I can't refrain myself from doing that because it's all I've ever known how to do. I've always done it. And I can't stop doing it."

"I didn't want you to shelter me all the time when I was a stupid teenager," Dean said softly, gingerly massaging the older man's hands. "But now? All I want is for you to love me whilst letting me live a little. The alcohol thing? Now I understand why you acted the way you did and I'm not upset anymore. Cas, you got to realize that I'm still learning things about being in a relationship with you. We both are and I'm not used to the person I'm with…taking care of me like this."

"I want to take care of you, like a husband takes care of his wife. Is that wrong of me to say?" Castiel's voice tendered to the lowest croak. "Would that make you feel deprived of your masculinity? Dean…" he captured the younger man's face into his hand and lightly caressed behind his left ear. "Let me take care of you."

"Not like I'm a kid though…"

"You're not a child anymore. You're a man and I'm aware of that. You've bloomed into the most amazing man I've ever known and I'm obsessed with you. I'm your biggest fan. I hate all the men and women that have looked at you with lusting eyes over these past years. I wanted to claim you as mine. You're mine, Dean. _Mine_. I don't want anyone to have you."

Staring back, the younger man bit his lips before deciding on something that he feared. "You still afraid you'll lose me?

"Yes.” Castiel nodded, entwining their fingers. “Now I understand why some women rush to have a baby with their lover. Because they simply wish to tie him down, to keep him tethered to their soul forever so that he needs to come back to them. Rita Coolidge elaborated perfectly on my feelings for you when she sang about being the _jealous kind_. You must forgive me for the way I act sometimes, she said, I'm the jealous kind."

"Cas," Dean suddenly shook his head in a haste and searched blue eyes with a worried look, "there _literally_ is no one else. It's not like there's some woman chasing me or some dude. Why the hell are you even jealous?"

"I don't know but I am! I am jealous, weak, protective, lustful, sensitive, moody, fatigued, overworked—"

"Babe—"

"Dean, I'm falling apart, aren't I?" Castiel stared back in bewilderment, his hands shaking in the younger man's grasp, "I'm losing my sanity. Is this the end for me? Is this where you'll have to lock me in my apartment and I'll become deranged like the woman in Wuthering Heights? I'm going to have to be sedated and—"

"You're okay," Dean collected the older man's face between his palms and rested their foreheads together. "Huggy bear, you're going to be okay. It's just the stupid alcohol messing with you and it's bringing up all the things you want to say to me but you never really build up the courage to. And it's fine, sweetheart. It's perfectly fine because I _know_ that you don't mean to hurt me by saying those things. I know that you love me."

"I…love…you."

"And I love you too, Cas, I…" Dean shook his head as tears clouded his vision and he drowned in pools of blue, "I…can't live without you."

Castiel trembled from small sobs and abundantly those tears flowed down his already wet face, sticking to his eyelashes and providing enough proof that the conversation was becoming too heavy. It was not something that felt necessary anymore because the definite intoxication from the alcohol was proving to be too much for the older man. He kept losing himself in ways that hurt Dean by witnessing and by being on the receiving end of such words, so deciding that they really needed to leave, to go home and put everything to rest, he draped an arm around Castiel and guided him to the door.

"Where are you going?" those hands reached for Dean, face contorting as he fought fatigue, and so much more riling up like a hurricane which couldn't sleep. "Are you going to leave me? Dean!"

"I'm not _ever_ going to leave you," finding his way quickly around the Impala, the younger man settled behind the wheel and fired up the engine. "Let's get you home, into some warm clothes and under a couple of blankets, okay?"

"I don't want to go home. I want to keep talking to you."

"Then keep talking to me."

Inside the car was freezing so after turning on the heater to full blast, Dean reversed and already felt hands reaching for him again. Desperate hands, trying to discover some kind of proof that he was really there, carding under his sweater again and finding the plane of his chest.

Castiel remained close, melting into his side and curling up like a comma on the seat whilst the car nosed its way down the road already piling with snow. He wrapped his gloved fingers around Dean's neck and tugged the younger man's face closer to his lips, pressing soft kisses in between sleep and consciousness. And by the time they were parked outside the Novak estate, he was drifting again into a deep slumber.

"I got your ring…size by…holding your hand…that day," he said softly, arm wrapped around Dean as if he was being comforted by a teddy bear.

"When?" the little spark of nervousness lit up inside of his chest because he couldn't refrain from hoping for the proposal although they were possibly far from such a thing. Maybe it would take over a year to come to past.

"In the car when we…came back from depositing Crowley in his cesspit of sin."

Dean snorted before wrapping his arms around the older man and pulling him in close. "No wonder you kept squeezing my damn fingers."

"I want to…ask you now but I don't have the ring."

"Cas, take it easy. You're still sailing and might not remember half of this tomorrow so—"

"Don't make the aliens probe me. If they do, I'll become a vegetable and you don’t like vegetables."

Dean couldn't carry him, that much was evident from the fact that Castiel's clothing was bulky and he packed on muscle and body weight in all the right proportions. "Hey," he lightly squeezed those slumped shoulders, the older man's head lolling onto his own. "Babe, we're home. Think you can walk?"

The flutter of eyelashes and then wide pools of blue which drowned Dean immediately, he simply gazed into the depth whilst his heart sighed. For many reasons too, one of them being the weight of their conversations and feeling the shrapnel embedded inside his chest. They said so many things to each other that would leave residue but he thought that expelling those feelings was a long time overdue.

"I don't feel well," Castiel said softly, his forehead creasing.

"Shouldn't have mixed wine with whisky. Come on, you big baby" Dean draped an arm around the tired bundle and pushed open the door behind him, then slowly they both managed to assist each other out of the Impala. "Cas, you got to walk, okay? I'm not so strong to do it on my own."

When they were already through the door and Garth secured the latch, the sleepy, moody, and drunken side of Castiel emerged again. "I want to eat…you. I want to taste your…cock—"

"Alright, that's…" Dean tossed a nervous glance at the kitchen staff and smiled, "he's wasted…"

"How much did he consume?" Garth bit in his laughter before helping to guide the man in between them towards the staircase. "He's definitely not a lightweight, so he probably had a couple bottles of wine and—"

"He mixed that with something and I'm pretty sure it was Jack Daniels," Dean rolled his eyes before they reached the top of the stairs and Castiel's blue eyes turned to gaze at him. "Rule of thumb, never do that."

"Don't I know it," Garth snorted and his legs almost tangled with his boss before he steadied them again with a sigh of relief. "Once I topped off two six packs of beer with Johnnie and I couldn't move the next day. Jack makes you numb though."

After reaching the door to the apartment, Dean thankfully pulled out his key and fitted it into the lock and then showing as much appreciation as he could to Garth, he accepted the rest of the responsibility on his own. Getting Castiel onto the bed, holding him up so that his leather jacket could be pulled off, discarding the sweater and then the jersey underneath. Moving to his pants and unbuckling the belt before unzipping, the sounds filling the heavy silence around them at almost two in the morning. And by the time Dean fitted the older man's legs into a pair of heavy slacks, he was very much conscious of those soaked boxers that he tossed along with the rest of clothing in the laundry basket.

So apparently both of them were highly aroused tonight because he was most definitely and still suffered from the inability of having Castiel there to ease the throbbing inside of his own pants. Dean had this wild urge to go down on the older man as he fixed the heavy blanket around his sleeping form though, thirsty to taste him and drag his tongue along those amazing inches. And then he realized how his sex drive piqued off the charts after getting into a hot shower.

Whilst the water cascaded on his body, trying to thaw and wash away all the fatigue and emotions, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and came almost immediately.

The release was painful at first and something that didn’t resemble any other instance except for his teenage years when he oftentimes couldn't find that climax with anyone else. And when he came back from New York…how could he even forget that night? Now though, Dean blindly reached for the tiled walls as he came hard and with so much strain that his knees weakened, his mind dizzied and his hips kept thrusting until he was too spent to even stand up with enough composure.

Whatever was happening to him throughout the day must have created so much desire mixed with anger and a dying need for Castiel to touch him that he became a ticking time bomb. And after lathering up with that scented body wash which opened his senses and cleared his mind, Dean toweled off, slipped into as much layers of clothing he could manage and wandered out into the small living room within the apartment.

From the instant he settled before the fire though, his mobile began to vibrate and highlighting that it was Sam calling, the first thought to consume his mind was that there must be an emergency.

"No, man, all's well over here," the younger Winchester provided after listening to his brother's tone of worry. "I'm just calling to make sure you're okay. Was just on my way to the loo and saw your car coming down the road."

"Sam, I'm officially mentally fucked. Right now, I'm literally trying to calm my freaking brain down. My chest?" Dean stretched out on the soft sofa and pulled a heavy blanket around him, "feels like it's thawing off from a volcanic eruption. And this is not me being willingly poetic."

"Damn, that bad huh?" Sam sighed before the sound of a door closing on his end filled the phone. "You two had a fight, I'm guessing?"

"At this point, it felt like one but he was high and I saw a whole other side of him. I'm talking about him just reaching in deep enough to get all the things that were bothering him about me and throwing them over like bombs, one by one."

"Cas getting high? That's as rare as ever, man. But that's what alcohol does to most people. It brings up the bad, digs up graves. I'm a happy drunk but Jess is more like Cas, it seems. All the shit that she's buried down just rises up and hits me in the face."

Dean studied the flames licking the large logs and then the clock on the wall highlighting ten past three. "Tell me about it. We said some things to each other that might leave bruises, Sam. If he remembers any of it. And like…things I never thought would get to him, you know? Things that I thought were small. Benny for instance, _he_ came up."

"Let me guess," Sam sounded worried, "Cas is more than over the top jealous about the bond you two had. And it's understandable, Dean. It really is. I sat through the dinners when you weren't there and somewhere running around with Benny. I saw how it broke him. But honestly, I thought at the time that it was ridiculous for him to be jealous about something like that."

"It's more than ridiculous because he's freaking twenty years older than me and I needed people around my age to relate to. I couldn't get him of all people to understand why I needed to hang at parties and get wasted. He thought those things were wrong and would make me turn into a rebel."

"Does the twenty years bother you now though?" Sam asked softly, fishing most definitely. "Don't get me wrong, nothing's wrong with age gaps but I'm just curious because I never thought it affected you when you were younger. You two related on so many levels with books, movies, other topics. And I always thought that bringing Benny in was kind of like you choosing to prove something to yourself. More like living on the wild side instead of binging TCM. I liked the mature and bookworm you but I didn't like when you used to disappear and drink and use drugs; that sort of thing. To me it felt like you were trying so hard to _not_ be you."

"His age doesn't bother me at all," Dean said, sinking into a relaxed mode finally and experiencing a dipping in his sex drive that was a relief. "And you're right. I was trying to be someone else. He brought up Lee."

Sam braced himself for more but then listened to his brother's light chuckle before choosing to join in. "Dude, all in the past."

"I'll work it out. I just feel so numb inside right now, like I've been drained of all my blood."

The two of them talked for almost an hour until Dean practically fell asleep midsentence, his head lolling sideways and the call ending after Sam determined that he was no longer being listened to.

It was obviously his intention to return to bed, to Castiel's side for the rest of the night, but the warm fire presented a beautiful sense of comfort which lasted through half the day. During that time though Dean's dreams consisted of searching the estate, wandering through the rooms for the older man and crying after his inability of locating him. And when he woke up and those green eyes adjusted to the setting around him, he practically jumped up and almost tumbled to the floor, legs twisting in the heavy blanket.

"Shit," glancing around the apartment, his mind twisted from the actuality of Castiel waking up to an empty bed, and probably disturbed from the thought of Dean choosing to separate them. "Go on and fuck it up further, Winchester," he grumbled to himself after checking the bedroom and being washed over with a sense of worry from highlighting that the older man wasn't there. "Christ, it's like fate really _is_ a bitch!"

Kicking the wall near the door, he groaned and fisted his hands enough to scrub away the sleepiness that still remained on his face. Then standing around and staring at nothing in particular, obviously lost in thought of what his mistake of sleeping on the couch would mean when they finally confronted each other, Dean decided that he couldn't avoid it. He would brave the truth and expect to be trusted enough, and so after changing, he wandered down the staircase and finally found that his dreams came to life.

Dean searched the rooms one by one until he began to hyperventilate, leaning onto a wall next to a beautiful watercolor painting of the White Mountains and trying to catch his breath. This wasn't happening. Not when he was overflowing with love and craved the sight of the older man to deposit all of it onto him, not when he wanted to be touched and kissed and craved for conversation. He became so needy that relying on his dreams, Dean pushed the door into the room containing the indoor pool and found Balthazar doing laps instead of his brother.

"Glorious sight of you in a robe and plaid," was the older man's greeting with a smile that stretched across his face. "If you're looking for Cassie, he's in there," he jerked his chin towards a door at the back of the long room which contained a simple sign. "Soaking away his hangover in the Jacuzzi."

"You guys have a freaking…" Dean swallowed hard and stared before deciding that wealth provided anything desired. "Never mind. I’m not even going to ask if you also have a sex dungeon somewhere in this place."

"Oh, my brother certainly is _not_ that type but if you're open to it, then feel free to ask me for the keys to my hidden room in the basement."

"You're such an asshole."

"Lock the door after you go in there," Balthazar winked whilst bobbing in the water, "and don't worry, the room is sound proof so you wouldn't disturb me."

Carefully maneuvering his way around the pool and trying not to slip on the tiles, Dean avoided the huge grin from the older man following him down the line with prolonged teasing until he pulled open the door and practically rushed into the other room.

The space brushed him with a beautiful wave of heat though, engulfing his entire body and hugging, protecting him from the winter outside. All around him steam wafted around the silver tiles until Dean pinpointed Castiel's pair of blue eyes so electric from the other side of the Jacuzzi that must have been at least five feet in length and four feet wide. The surface bubbled softly, the interior containing a light blue color and because they were so conflicted from the prior night, they both gazed at each other before Dean decided to break the silence.

"So you're trying to squeeze the wine out through your pores," he allowed his eyes to roam the rest of the small room which contained a towel rack, a small cupboard and the controls for the tub. "Nice place you got here, Mr. Wolf. Luring me in like this."

Castiel only stared, struggling to formulate a sentence and then deciding that nothing would escape from his mouth, he simply clamped his lips together.

"How rude of you _not_ to ask me in," nervously slipping off his dark robe, Dean could literally feel himself become consumed with anxiousness that shouldn't have been there, but the dream provided enough clarity that this was a lot like a experiencing a premonition. "I'm going to try to force an invite from you."

Slowly he unbuttoned his plaid shirt, tugging out his arms one by one, those green eyes never leaving blue ones, and then moving to toeing off his shoes, Dean licked his lips. He was so elated, so conscious of the heat pooling around his gut that the evident strain of his cock inside his slacks wasn't a surprise and after slipping off those, he held his breath and remained right where he was like an art exhibit.

"Fuck," Castiel became a deep shade of red, his eyes resting guiltily on a specific part of Dean that was all too breathtaking for him to consider anywhere else.

"I'm freaking thrilled that we're on the same page," wandering closer to the lip of the tub, those green eyes sparkled before he tipped his toes into the water. "Now should I stand here so that you can keep admiring my—"

"Get in," the older man croaked, his chest rising above the water with that stunned expression still resting on his countenance.

"Get in… _please_ ," Dean toyed without a smile, latching onto the depth they reached after last night and deciding that Castiel was now living in every single corridor inside of his mind, places that were darkened over the years but were now consumed.

"Please," chest heaving, the older man gingerly chewed on his lips afterwards and those blue eyes filled with tears. The look of uncertainty that suddenly crossed his face lingered a little longer before he lowered his stare onto the bubbling water before letting out a small sigh through his mouth.

Giving up the role play, Dean became so deeply affected by the weakened disposition that he stepped carefully into the tub and lowered himself onto the opposite side. Their calves rubbed together under the water before their legs tangled, and with the space so small, Dean's feet kissed Castiel's chest until he found that the older man was hard. How glorious was such a thing that they matched each other so quickly? His cock stood upright and twitched from being touched and immediately Castiel's hand disappeared under the water and collected Dean's toes between his fingers.

"First thing's first, I was talking to Sam last night and fell asleep on the couch. Didn't mean to. I swear and I'm—"

"I believe you," Castiel said softly, squeezing and massaging the arch of the younger man's right foot. "He called me earlier."

"Damn," admiring his brother for being so considerate and thorough, Dean settled back onto the leather lining of the tub and sighed. His gaze never left those blue eyes though and through their connection, it became evident that they were still uncertain about the aftermath of the night prior. "Cas, you were high. Things were said but that doesn't mean that anything's changed for the worst. If I'm being honest, I really liked that we got to open up so that we could get everything off our chest."

"I'm still wallowing in my shame," letting out a sigh of relief, Castiel lolled his head back and closed his eyes. "Allow me to slowly poison myself."

"Was it Jack Daniels?"

The older man's chest heaved. "Yes. I might have held back on elaborating. I consumed a bottle of merlot, several cocktails and then poured Jack generously on the rocks. Your father is a blotting paper by the way."

Dean whistled and stared before blinking quickly, obviously stunned by the amounts of alcohol. "Dad starts feeling something after two six packs. But Cas…you shouldn’t drink so much whenever something about us bothers you."

"Yes. But it wasn’t just about Claire or the…other things we said to each other."

"Then why?" Dean frowned deeply and slipped his hands into the warm water, studying the flushed face of the older man. "Was it your brother?" when he received a shake of the head instead, he dug deeper. "Something Claire said?" still no and the soft sigh emanating from Castiel's parted lips only suggested that he was far from the truth. "Are you going to even tell me what it was?"

"No because you'll find out soon."

"Cas? What does that even mean? I'm freaking out here."

"Dean! Would you please let it go?"

"No! Okay?” the younger man stared back incredulously and wouldn’t embrace defeat. “I'm not going to let it go because you need to start understanding that when we get like this, when we break apart, we need to address whatever the hell it was and I'm not going keep doing this. I want us to work together so that—"

"I was going to propose to you!" Castiel cried hoarsely, then after the two of them stared at each other, green eyes widening, he slammed the water with his fists before sinking lower. "Fuck! I didn't…plan to but I wanted to because it was the perfect moment for me and then I realized that I didn't think it through and I left the ring upstairs and your family was already coming over. Countless times I've screwed this up since we first kissed," Castiel rambled on and his eyes leaked as he pleaded with Dean for understanding. "I keep trying to find the right moment but…Christ, if you only know how I fought so hard to hold this back from you last night when I was intoxicated. It was on the tip of my tongue to just come right out and confess. But I couldn't do it and then because I couldn't, I delved into the worst kind of confessions ever."

Just when he believed that it would have taken a longer time for the moment to arrive, it almost happened yesterday. When he wasn’t prepared at all, would have cried, broken down and withered away from the question.

"Now I'm getting so nervous because I just hope that you don't do it right _now_ ," Dean swallowed hard and his eyes searched the room for the hint of something that could contain a box. "I'm not ready right now. I'm naked for fuck's sake and I don't want to tell our kids, especially Claire about how it all went down when we were both naked and hard. That's _not_ okay."

Castiel snorted before he erupted laughing, a generous bout of laughter that was like the best music to Dean's ears and as he studied the wave of humor that covered the older man, he fell into the trap too. Doubling over, he gave in and chuckled before their faces flushed red and very soon, after splashing some water onto Castiel's face, he received legs wrapping around his waist and trying to tug him nearer.

"No, wait! Wait, dammit," he fought off the prodding toes and separated them once again before clearing his throat, "so you're going to do it in front of dad and everyone? Do you want me to help you plan it?"

"Shut up," Castiel groaned and rolled his eyes upwards, "all the pressure is on me and this is so unfair. Honestly I should just hand you the ring so that you may be the one who proposes."

"Is that what you want? Me to do it? Because you can hold off on it and I'll just go right ahead and—"

"No, darling," offering a small smile, Castiel chewed on his lips before his chest heaved. "No, I've been dreaming of it for a long time so let me…wallow in my shame."

Dean nodded slowly as the truth sank in and then he lightly danced his fingers through the bubbling surface of the water because he should have been aware of that much. The confessions provided by Castiel about why he reacted the way he did, and then the wave of guilt that followed. Most of it was evaporating from his mind and maybe it was such a good thing because he didn't want to swim around in those memories. It was all about getting everything off their chests and then moving on with those small truths in mind.

"Were you holding your breath all morning? Afraid of where we would be afterwards?" Dean studied the flattened dark hair as skillful thumbs worked their way under the arch of his left foot.

"Yes. I still am. I thought I'd lose you."

"Why, Cas?"

"Because everything we've experienced so far feels heavy." Rolling his head backwards onto the lip of the tub, the older man sighed.

"True love isn't ever easy…"

Castiel lifted his head to stare across the bubbling water. "You're still convinced that we're captivated by true love? That we're soul mates? After everything that has happened?"

"Aren't you?” Dean gazed back and literally felt his chest bubble with so much warmth from love that he couldn’t even breathe properly. “Cas, this relationship leaves me so exposed in ways that I've never thought I would ever experience with anyone. I like it," he said with a nod and a strained expression. "I like the way it fucks me up. All the things we do, all the things we dig up and talk about. Man, that's something I'm sure a shitload of couples never experience because they just can't be honest and real with each other. But with us? We're so willing to go deeper and I mean, I don't like when it gets sad enough that you cry…like you did last night. But if I'm there to hold you and stay with you and remind you why we're doing this, then I don't want to let it go. I don't want to let the best thing that's ever happened in my life so far slip away. And call me crazy for thinking this way but I want you one hundred percent, which means physically, mentally, emotionally, all of it, Cas. I fucking… _need_ you. I want you to cut me open and live inside of me, man. And I think you're already buried deep inside my damn body that I feel you everywhere."

When he finished delivering his speech though, Dean was incompetent of embracing contentment because he truly decided that the depth was too jarring. The confession seemed dark and dangerous and reaching into a zone where the older man may not wish to dwell. He perhaps didn't wish such a twisted kind of love, in a manner of speaking, relishing in the hurtful moments because those moments revealed the innermost shards of glass?

"Dean…" Castiel croaked, his face contorting from holding back the tears. He tried to smile but ended up delivering a small tug of his lips instead.

"I've got plenty of words for you, sweetheart." Spreading his legs, Dean winked whilst offering a glorious smile and then he lifted himself a little above the uneven surface of the water. "Come and get it. Or you know what? Maybe you should propose now so that you can put the ring on my—"

"Dean!"

Ten minutes after, the two of them opening another door, towels around their waists and climbing a flight of stairs then making a left onto a concealed landing, Dean playfully wrapped his arms around Castiel as his laughter filled the silence. He was swimming in desire by the time they stumbled into the apartment, green eyes darkening and fingers reaching for smooth skin still damn and warm on the older man's back. Then after they wandered into the bedroom, both of them tore away their towels before disturbing the well-made blue sheets.

Castiel pulled Dean onto him, adjusting his position on the bed before they gazed at each other longingly, then diving in for a kiss, they crushed their lips together. Hands clamped on Dean's waist then travelling downwards to his thighs which were squeezing the older man into position, knees digging into the sheet and very soon...Dean entwined their fingers and pinned Castiel's arms above his head, dipping his body downwards and bringing their cocks together before letting out a heavy moan. In every sense of the word, it was the beginning of bliss, for both of them to come together after so much angst and already leaking, hard and desperate for release.

Dean rolled their hips together before Castiel mewled under him, and burying his face into the older man's delicious scent of honey and almonds, and a hint of bergamot, he drowned in the feeling of their skin meeting. His pores became excited, his tongue licked a pathway along the other man's jawline and when he felt Castiel's fingers digging into his back, Dean folded over in the pleasure building inside of his body. He welcomed it because the sensation made him feel alive in ways he could never achieve normally, when they were like that, so intimately entwined.

"I want…" Castiel choked on his words after collecting Dean's face between his palms and forcing their eyes to meet, "I want you inside of me," he croaked, blue orbs wide as saucers. "Now. Please…tell me you have the…"

Lube. Dean blindly reached for the small duffel bag on the carpeted floor, and when the older man squeezed his ass, he laughed before locating the bottle in question.

He couldn’t believe that the moment was happening so fast, and forced himself to calm down, to pace the seconds and feel the minutes. The beauty in the sequence of their lovemaking that involved Castiel mostly squeezing the cool liquid onto him and working his fingers slowly along his shaft until Dean moaned from the excited sensation kicking in. The feeling of becoming overly stimulated so quickly by warmth and little bolts of pleasure rippling through his thighs, sparking up areas in his body he never could have believed would become affected by something so simple in a bottle.

By the time he was working the lube inside of Castiel, he realized that their bodies reacted in different ways, creating more pronounced sounds that captivated their minds and chased away the nervousness. One finger caused the older man to gasp a little, blue eyes growing wide from the new feeling, and then two just presented a loud moan that rippled through Castiel's body and forced him to arch his back.

By then, Dean was so hard that he fought for restraint from coming undone, blinded by the urge to reach for those fingers digging into his shoulders and just lead them where he craved to be touched. But he held back, and after using enough lube in preparation, he settled himself between Castiel's thighs.

"I want you to stop me if I'm hurting you too much, okay?" he asked hoarsely, locking their eyes together and receiving a small nod because Castiel was nervous as much as he seemed to be.

But there was no need for nervousness apparently because from the moment he slowly began to ease himself in, Dean couldn’t even determine whether there was any discomfort. Those blue eyes became listless, lips parted, head tilted upwards and then his grip on Dean's shoulder slackened as the inches disappeared inside of him one by one. The only experience which troubled the younger man though was the tightness of Castiel closing around him until Dean was straining to hold back his release. And when he was fitted all the way and their chests pressed together, tears clouded his vision.

The feeling of being utterly complete, of finally grasping that moment of the two of them connecting in a way they longed for, in Castiel's case, possibly more than enough time over the years. All of it was too blissful that when Dean felt those strong thighs wrap around him, he kissed the older man deeply with more tongue. Biting Castiel's bottom lip and pulling, awakening those blue eyes to reveal themselves and meet his own green widened ones, he could feel how their bodies trembled from adjusting. And Dean rubbed their noses together because he needed to be a little playful, just to remind Castiel that they were experiencing something which thrilled him beyond anything else.

"Sweetheart…" he pressed a soft kiss onto the older man's cheek, feeling himself holding back like pulling on an arrow on a bow.

"Mmm?"

"Does it hurt?" he braved to ask in a soft tone, fingers raking through dark hair still wet. Dean could feel how hot the older man was, tight and searing and pulsing deep down inside. "Tell me everything."

"Beautiful." Castiel gingerly chewed on his lips and his chest heaved. "Breathless…"

"Loss for words, huh?" Dean hummed into the warmth of the other man's neck and felt how their hearts hammered away together. "God, I love you."

"I love you too," Castiel croaked, running his fingers up Dean's back. "Can we stay this way forever?"

"We'd need to eat…and shower…"

Moaning deeply, the older man's thighs trembled a little until he tilted his chin upwards. "Kiss…me."

Dean grazed his teeth across the length of Castiel's neck slowly and tried to keep his hips steady, but it was difficult to fight that urge. "Can you feel me…inside of you?"

"I can. All of you. Dean…"

"Yeah?" Arms forming a triangle around the older man's head, he brushed their lips together before he became braced with a deep heat pooling inside his gut and groaning from the displeasure, Dean rubbed their cheeks together.

"You're so…big."

"You're bigger…"

"Fuck me…with your…cock…"

"Jesus…Talk dirty to me, Cas…" squeezing his eyes shut, Dean buried his face into the other man's hair and trembled, knowing that he was depriving himself too long.

"I'm sorry…I'm so…sorry," mumbling through lost breath, Castiel whimpered softly.

"About what?" Dean croaked, parted lips breathing hard into the shell of the older man's ear. The room was so warm but not suffocating, just a comfortable sense of bliss.

"What I said to you—"

"No. Had to…come out." He was so close, so dangerously close and his mind was reeling, his teeth chattering. "Cas…Fuck…"

"What?" Castiel asked in a tone suggesting worry, "what is it?"

"I'm holding back and it's…I can't…" when he shifted uncomfortably though, moving inside the older man, he unearthed a deep moan before hands found those dark blonde tendrils. And willing his body to simply embrace its own control deeply affected by pleasure, Dean began to move slowly but he only managed to pull out before pushing in a little more.

"Dean!" Castiel blindly reached downwards and captured most of the other man's hips, fingers digging into soft skin and he tried to stop him from moving. "It's…"

"I'm hurting you?" Dean's voice came out so small and weak, "do you want me to….stop?"

"No, just," choking on air, Castiel let out a throaty moan before his body gave in and lifting his hips off the bed, he cried out into Dean's neck when he was filled completely again. "I need you to…let go, just…come—" and all it took was for him to pull them closer together again until…

"Fuck!" crying out hoarsely, the younger man folded over and emptied himself so much, body convulsing and toes pointing.

"Dean!" Castiel writhed underneath and clamped his legs tighter before his vision was blinded by bliss, and it happened so quickly, the build-up of his body closing up before he was pushed over the edge of a wave of pleasure unlike anything he ever experienced before. The movement was definite, it was there and burned but he was consumed with so many other feelings that none of the pain mattered.

The pain was there though but not suffocating, more like tolerable and stretching him, Castiel could only cling to what little sanity he had left.

"Dammit," gasping and digging his knees into the bed, Dean lifted himself a little so that their eyes connected and wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck, he kissed him deeply before filling him up again. The loud moan broke their lips apart, a sound that emptied itself from somewhere deep down inside. And those blue eyes widened, lips quivering as he was stretched again, his heels digging into Dean's ass. "Babe…look at me."

Castiel was lost for a few seconds, not blinking, chest heaving until he clamped around Dean's cock so tightly, his arms reached around and he clung to the younger man through another wave of pleasure, crying out his name until there were no words after.

It was enough to force Dean to start thrusting, slowly at first after he felt the ripple of an orgasm open up the other man again until those blue eyes became unfocused. The air between them grew so heated, sweat trailed paths and soaked the sheets and after Castiel started to cry out, Dean thanked the heavens that they weren't anywhere else but buried inside a space where no one could hear them. Because they were both loud, but Castiel was louder, forcing out obscenities and Dean's name repeatedly until he came again but this time, so intense that he pulled the two of them into a pool of bliss together.

They choked on their hoarse cries, folding into each other and fingernails possibly leaving marks before they became too breathless. And still, Dean kept blindly making love to Castiel until he forced tears to dampen their faces, parted lips quivering along with thighs and just the two of them rocking together and picking up the pace. Grinding into that kind of warmth which pushed him too many times to let go, kept draining him over and over again in ways Dean never experienced before. His mind unraveled and then he was leaving bite marks on Castiel's neck.

"Think you can come for me again?" Dean dared to ask, blindly thrusting as he neared the edge again. "Cas? Can you…"

"You're killing…me," the older man panted, collecting Dean's face between his palms and connecting their eyes. "You're…so…beautiful."

Thrusting in deeper than before, both of them mewled before Castiel's thighs parted and fighting to form words, he simple stared into green orbs. His orgasms were so beautiful, rolling him under waves that suffocated and caused him to cry out too many times that he ended up grazing his teeth harshly over any inch of skin he could find.

He bit down on Dean's shoulder and lifting his hips just enough to grind them together, until he felt himself crying but was really in the moment of experiencing an out-of-body climax. It was addicting to anticipate it and then reach it so suddenly, feeling the ache inside his throat from his vocals being strained and still trying to say something.

Dean pulled out and adjusted his position by propping up on both knees and gripping Castiel's thighs, he guided himself in smoothly as those blue eyes widened. As a throaty cry drifted from the other man's parted lips, and he arched his back, reaching blindly for the headboard of the bed and pulling, twisting the sheets. Until Castiel's feet left the bed, his toes pointing before he came again with an intense wave of pleasure that spurted release onto his chest before Dean stiffened and followed. And with every jerk of his hips, filling Castiel up until the sheet became soaked, they called out each other's names.

The pain was blissful on both ends, for Dean, it was the tightness and the waves of orgasms that held him inside of Castiel, buried him deep in until his mind was reeling from his own release. For the other man it was the stretching and the feeling of filling that void inside of him which had been aching, and his mind strained to a point where he couldn't even process where they were, all the world around them disappearing. Their rhythm picked up, Dean's thrusts deep and arching Castiel's back until they were both lost for breath and sound, their lips parting to reveal nothing, their chests heaving uncontrollably before both coming again.

When they were finally too tired and too spent to push further, Dean felt empty after separating their bodies.

He rolled over and settled on his back onto the sweat soaked sheets and reaching for Castiel's hand, entwined their fingers. Through the aftermath, their bodies were floating, hearts racing and breathing quick and raspy. Their legs were jelly, mind torn apart and the pieces drifting in a sense of euphoria and the pain from the marks they left on each other…those were the only discomfort.

"Heavenly."

"Yeah?" Dean smiled before reaching for the curl of tendrils behind the other man's right ear. "I thought so too."

"Do you think that it's healthy that we…fucked after what happened earlier?" Castiel asked in a hoarse whisper, and then he winced from the sharp pain in his throat and how his body throbbed.

Dean smiled, tongue tucked between his teeth and he was glowing already. He could feel his pores still opened up, his senses sharp and the coffee colored walls appeared so stimulating. "Might not be prescribed by some doctor, but we needed it. I think we needed that for a long time now."

"I just wish to say this," Castiel bundled the clean blanket between them and turned onto his side, "whatever was said last night by me, I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. The words came from deep down inside of me and now that I've let them out, I feel so…"

"Light?" Dean's eyes sparkled.

"Well separating that feeling from having orgasms for the first time, I'll admit that it's quite difficult."

"I felt every single one and am pretty sure that they're the reason you screamed your lungs out. But how did I do?"

"Splendidly," Castiel smiled so wide and showed two perfect rows of teeth that the sight was refreshing to Dean who studied the older man's countenance and savored it. "You were so gentle with me, even when your body was aching for release. That must have been so hard and painful for you and I cannot thank you enough for caring so deeply about me."

"Don't you _ever_ thank me for doing what I'm supposed to do," Dean stated in a soft tone though, "okay?" and when he received a nod, his cupped fingers caressed Castiel's face. "Prepare yourself to become pregnant," the hoarse rumble of laughter curled his toes, "no joke, I've never cum like that before and I'm pretty sure we just made a baby."

"You adorable and sexy idiot," Castiel collected Dean's face between his palms and rubbed their noses together affectionately. "I hope biology slackens enough to make _that_ miracle happen."

"It was intense, huh?"

"It was! Dean, it was riveting. I never thought I could…feel that. It was deep and…"

"If being gay is so wrong," the younger man said softly, still caressing Castiel's face with cupped fingers, "then how are two men even allowed to do _that?_ Have you thought of it? I literally gave you multiple orgasms, Cas."

"The human body was most definitely created to accommodate many things people remain ignorant about. For example, you fitted so fully inside of me, it's like we were made for each other."

"I'm itching for round two…"

"Do you want to _really_ kill me?" blue eyes stared back in amazement. "Dean…I'm seriously sore. I'm going to sleep because I'm quite older than you and I actually need time to recover…"

"I was only joking," pressing their lips together and laughing, "hell, I'm sore too from the way you held me inside of you and I've never… _ever_ felt something like that, man. Anal sex has to be _the_ best thing since sliced bread because it's like I—" Dean glanced over at Castiel and smiled fondly at the closed eyes and slow rise and fall of his chest. "Yeah, I've exhausted the hell out of you, huh?" he collected the blanket slowly and bundled it up, then cleaning the older man afterwards, as best as he could, Dean fitted a pillow between those strong thighs before resting another blanket over Castiel's sleeping form.

………….

"I thought you'd never surface!" was John's greeting the following day, after his older son tumbled into the front door, wrapped in several layers of clothes. "He's glowing, look at him, Sam."

"All sexed up," thumping his brother on his back, the taller Winchester studied the flush of color and healthy complexion and he laughed wildly. "I never thought I'd get to harass you about this. I thought you'd die a hermit in this house."

"Well, it's good to know that I can prove you wrong," Dean picked up the baby from the floor and twirled him around, the soft giggles warming his soul. Then resting the fat bundle onto his right hip, he sought out Jess in the kitchen by Ellen's side, the two of them instantly beaming at him. "Three days away from this place and I missed it so much."

"Goes to show that home is always where the heart is, ain't it?" the older woman came forward to embrace Dean, then patted his face and chuckled just as Sam did earlier. "Well, I'll be damned. You've been rolling around plenty, haven't you?"

"Now, now," John tsked whilst unlocking the backdoor and still his eyes registered a generous amount of humor, "don't make him regret coming over here because of the teasing. I'd like to see his face here a little more."

"I'm actually going to spend today and the next two days here because Cas is going to be in Paxton doing some fancy client's accounting. So…"

"And you ain't going with him?" Ellen stopped chopping the carrots and studied the contented face of a young man who was in every right her son. Even Jess ceased stirring the pot of steaming tomato sauce and her husband lingered by the doorway with a silent worry on his own face.

Dean though, shrugged and kissed the baby's forehead before smiling. "Nah, it's something he has to do without me distracting him. And besides, what would I do when he's busy working? Tour a town that's only main attraction is a hundred year old windmill?"

Several hums of understanding followed but Ellen was quite familiar with the demise of Dean's character when the pair was separated. Mentally, he struggled through those hours when the older man was just across the moor and physically, his complexion would become pasty. But apparently, the recent days of bonding with each other seemed to have changed Dean's perspective on things because for the entire day following, no one in the Winchester house highlighted any turn for the worse.

He was simply relaxed to a point where being away from Castiel gave him enough time to adapt to the things he oftentimes completed in solace. Like reading, for instance, Dean picked up the fourth Harry Potter book and continued to drown in the pages whilst guiding his nieces and nephew's art class. His disposition was calm, smile radiant and the glow never left his skin because for many reasons too secretive to mention even to his brother, he was really and truly satisfied and happy.

Since they delved into going all the way with each other, it seemed like a wall crumbled between the two of them that was straining to hold back a lot of tension. And it may have been very unfortunate that sex was a promising relief for certain things, but after they made love and slept through most of the day, the two of them woke up to a refreshed view on their relationship. A warm, fuzzy feeling where the words flowed easier and their thoughts meshed together and because that kind of clarity was there, the fears slipped away.

Could it be that coming together so intimately created a deeper sense of love that they never thought would fix things for the better? It was a whole new world to Dean that he oftentimes found himself drifting into a daydream whilst playing with the kids, reliving the beautiful moments of waking up in Castiel's arms and then sharing cups of coffee and breakfast in bed. Or sitting before the fire and simply strumming on his guitar whilst the older man relaxed and hummed along; their bodies were always touching, their hands reaching for each other. And when he bid Castiel a safe trip and kissed him deeply that morning, Dean still felt the ache deep down inside his chest but through the tears he smiled.

The black Bentley pulling away was possibly the worst for him, because he literally felt the connection between their hearts tugging in the opposite direction. Castiel didn't wish to leave, he most certainly didn't dream of separating them for three days but it was so necessary that losing the client would be detrimental to the Novak's image and so after pleading with Dean to accompany him, they decided that it wouldn't be best. He would be bored out of his mind being over there for instance, and settling with his family instead for the remainder of the holidays proved to be the next best option.

So there he was, lying flat on his back and immersed in Harry Potter whilst crayons tumbled around his socked feet and the fire crackled. The kitchen lit up with activity from preparing lunch, Sam was digging into a few case files and prepping for the new semester and John had left the house to accompany Bobby in town to fix someone's car.

Dean's phone vibrated and caused his namesake to squeal with delight before tumbling sideways. "Easy there, dumpling," he said chuckling before unlocking the mobile and going into his messages.

_I'm here. Can I call you?_

With his heart sighing, and feeling slightly anxious and elated at the same time from hearing the other man's voice, he confirmed the request and waited. When his phone vibrated immediately afterwards, Dean quickly slid his thumb to answer the call and could have felt himself blushing instantly.

"Hi, babe," he croaked, his eyes burning a little but the feeling of longing to be in close proximity never quite eating away at him like before. "Miss me?"

"With every beat of my heart," Castiel said softly, "Dean, what are you doing?"

"Now?" sitting up, the younger man studied the scatter of crayons and quickly tugged a marker away from the baby's hand that was creating random dots on the carpet. "Babysitting. Also about a hundred pages into the Goblet of Fire. What are you up to?"

"Standing in the room I'm to sleep in for the next three days, which overlooks the windmill and I must admit that it is quite spectacular."

"Yeah?" Dean snatched the black marker away from the baby because he was determined to make a mess on John's perfect green carpet. "So I could have gone with you and stayed in the room staring at it all day, huh?"

"You wouldn’t like it here," Castiel said sadly, "it's best if you remain with your family. Do you think that you can sleep without me as your pillow?"

Just the thought of such a thing clouded Dean's eyes with tears because it was the best part of falling asleep and waking up these past few days. "No, Cas. But I'll try because I know that you'll be feeling the same way too."

"Tell me what you're wearing," Castiel croaked.

Chuckling, the younger man tried to bat back through the day and remembered nothing had changed. "Cas, I'm wearing the same clothes you last saw me in. Blue jeans, leggings underneath, a white vest, black long sleeved sweater, red and blue long sleeved plaid shirt. Brown belt…which is yours by the way. Uh, black socks, brown boots…and dark blue boxers…"

"Mental image reinstated, now—"

"Wait, you forgot what I looked like before you left? Already? What the hell will three days do to you?"

"Possibly drive me insane until I'm a lunatic walking the streets back to you. But no, I didn't forget you," Castiel chuckled softly, "I just wanted you to humor me."

"What are _you_ wearing, you dick?" eyes widening after three pairs of eyes turned on him, Dean stared back at the innocent pools of emerald and brown and held his breath. "That's a bad word," he told them with an apologetic smile. "A very bad word."

"You're not five anymore—"

"Yeah, explain that to the audience I have right about now," Dean hissed, turning away from the scrutiny and pushing himself up. "If the baby starts calling my brother a dick, I'm going to laugh my ass off. Like…really."

Castiel hummed before a small silence stretched out and in that space of time, the younger man planted himself on the window seat and stared out at the white moor. "I am wearing black tailored pants with the same color leggings. A maroon colored sweater you gave me last year for Christmas, a long sleeved red shirt and your dusty brown leather jacket with the zipper that doesn't work by the way."

"You stole my jacket?" Dean realized that he couldn't locate it for a few days. "You're already stealing my damn clothes, Cas?"

"I also tried your hair gel…"

"You're going to be the kind of husband that doesn’t care about personal belongings, huh?" Dean noticed Sam hustling to the plate of cookies on the table and he kick started a race, the two of them colliding in a tangle of arms and legs. The scuffle caused him to erupt in chuckles which evidently surprised Castiel. "I'm not laughing at you, babe," he said after a chocolate cookie was safely inside of his mouth. Grinning at Sam, he stole the entire plate and hugged it protectively. "My brother is trying to get his hands on the kids' snacks."

"Your boyfriend is an ass," the taller Winchester leaned in and whispered close to the phone. "Jess! He's being mean to your sexy husband. Tell him to stop," he whined, pouting at his wife who shook her head and nudged Ellen.

"I'll tan your hides," the older woman said sternly, "those snacks aren't for you two! Give them to the twins. Dean! Don't make me take that plate from you, boy. You ain't too old just because you got a man now."

"I'm missing all the fun," Castiel said, laughing from the other end as the younger man deposited the cookies next to the twins with a scowl. "Dean, _you ain't too old just because you got a man now_ ," he drawled Ellen's sentence out before snorting. "If she only knew that your cock has been up my ass."

"Oh my god!" Dean tumbled into the window seat laughing so hard, tears streamed down his face. "How could you even say that?"

"Because it's true?" Castiel said calmly although there was a hint of a smile in his tone, "there is a small child running around in the snow outside and he's reminding me of you when Mary used to take you over to the estate so that you could play in the snow. Dean, do you think that people may view our relationship as strange because of my role as guardian through all these years? Balthazar said that there were whispers that I'm taking advantage of you and—"

"Cas, screw those people, whoever they are," Dean said softly, wondering why gossip could be so vile at times. "They have no idea what it was like between us and how we ended up coming together. And for fuck's sake, I'm almost twenty-six so…"

"I'm not worried about how I may take the whispers," Castiel said, "I'm worried about what they may say to you and then I'll have to pummel my fists into their faces…mentally because I cannot survive in jail without you. I'm much too handsome to be left alone in a prison swarming with men. Dean, I cannot go to prison."

"You wouldn't, huggy bear. When are you meeting your client?" the younger man asked because the sourness of people gossiping about the two of them was beginning to present a dull headache.

They had no right sticking their noses into personal affairs which they could never understand. The magnitude of whatever happened between the two of them, very few people could have understood from witnessing the damage and the blooming and then adjusting. Family mattered more than anyone else, people who weren't just connected to him through blood but more than that. And when Dean thought of the selfishness of strangers planting their views into the equation, he despised such things.

"At five. We're going to work through the night until one and then resume tomorrow at midday. He has…a wealth of documents to file and then his statements will follow so I'm warning you in advance that I may not be available for calls during those hours," Castiel said sympathetically, "however, I will reach out to you when I can."

"Sure," sticking his tongue out at Sam who was lounging in front of the television, Dean received a roll of the eyes instead before the lanky form of his brother plopped out of sight.

"I will miss talking to you."

"Yeah," a pillow came flying in his direction and the younger man ducked away, completely savoring the teasing moments he used to have so plentiful with Sam.

"Dean?" came Castiel's worried tone.

Sam literally rose up like a giant and swung himself over the back of the chair, erupting his kids into a frenzy as they scattered with squeals in all directions. The baby crawled away so quickly, he disappeared under the table holding the telephone and Marlene was so excited that she pelted into the kitchen and laughed loudly. And Dean, well he was admiring the entire aftermath with a sparkle of mischief in his own eyes.

"Cas, we'll talk later."

"Okay?" the older man's voice cracked because he was absolutely hanging on paranoia that the short responses were related to his awful working hours whilst away, "later being tomorrow?"

"Right, right," Dean frowned from the change in tone and stopped just enough to focus, "uh, you said you'll call when you get time."

"I did," on his end, blue eyes stared out the window and instantly felt the distance between them hanging like weights on his heart. "I have two hours remaining before five so since you don't want to talk to me, then I'll hang up."

"Cas, come on—" his soft laughter died away when the call ended and after considering the screen with a definite look of worry, Dean dialed back. Three rings and no answer until he was completely convinced that the older man rested the phone down so trying again, he waited and waited but nothing.

"Yo, what's up?" Sam stopped whilst darting past, chasing the kids around the house and he studied his brother's face. "Everything okay?"

"I have a very sensitive boyfriend." Pushing his phone into his jeans, Dean sighed before offering a shrug. "He hung up on me."

"Probably something you said…" Sam resumed the chase and left the older Winchester staring incredulously.

"Why is it that when anything happens, it's always _my_ fault? Is it really my fault?"

"Yes!" came all three replies in unison until the baby started repeating the word over and over again, louder each time.

In short, for the remainder of the day, there was no communication between the two, just the petulant behavior of staring at their phones occasionally and being quite conscious of the ONLINE status. Mostly on Dean's side, he quite enjoyed his hours spent back at home, sprawled out in front of the fireplace with The Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and Deck the Halls on television, then trying out the new toys his nieces received as gifts. He even washed up the wares after dinner slowly and very much savored the alone time whilst listening to oldies on the small radio by the microwave. And when the night ended off with everyone climbing the steps, he followed and decided that burying the little itch of worrying about Castiel was ridiculous.

He was forty-five years old, very much independent, composed and sophisticated. He was needy, very much clingy though and desperate for attention at times, which Dean embraced because he was exactly the same, but he also at times wished that one of them was the complete opposite. Being so reliant on each other pulled both of them down under sometimes because they just couldn't stay afloat and it didn't terrify Dean, but he just felt like it might be detrimental. Like after taking a long shower and collapsing onto his bed, after opening WhatsApp, he noticed the ONLINE status again, the anticipation of just sending that message but he didn't.

Instead, he tried to call again despite being told that the older man would be buried in work with the client, and obviously there was no answer. So pushing his mobile under the pillow, Dean picked up his Harry Potter book and buried himself into the pages again, this time, he didn't resurface until midnight when the air grew colder and the curtains needed to be drawn tighter together.

After three rings, because he simply could not allow the stretch of time to become so ridiculous, the line was picked up.

“Cas?” he dragged out in a low croak, searching the other end for any hint of breathing.

A tinkle of some sort, possibly a glass, and then the crackle of paper. “Hello, Dean.”

“Like old times, huh?” the younger man smiled, “when you would say that to me every single time you came for dinner and I’d greet you by the door. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s _going_ ,” Castiel said softly, sounding tired, and then he stifled a yawn. “I just stopped for a break but it seems as if we will indeed continue to work. “Save me, darling. I beg of you.”

Dean chuckled and played with the edge of his blanket idly, “I could take a taxi out there as soon as the sun rises. I could meet you as soon as you’re going into the motel to get some sleep. I could make love to you, Cas. Take all the stress away, erase the kinks from your back.”

The older man hummed, “as petulant as I may sound right now, I cannot allow you to distract me, Dean.”

The words wounded him a little but he braved through it. “Cool, well…since I called at a bad time, obviously,” the younger man forced himself to laugh and seem lighthearted, “I’m going to go, catch some shut eye, try not to miss you…”

“I meant that figures are fresh in my mind and if I am to stray away, then I may forget crucial things…”

“No, I get it,” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his throat burn although he wasn’t going to shed a tear. They were finally perfect, on level ground and he couldn’t allow any sense of paranoia to upset their aura. “You got your stuff to do. So go ahead and do it. Don’t let me get in the way. When you uh, got time for me, then call or message…whatever suits you, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel let out an uneven breath.

“You _will_ call me, right?” He asked for good measure, fear settling at the back of his mind. “You’ll call me the second you get the chance.”

“Yes, of course I will.”

And Dean ended the call, flipping over onto his stomach and still clutching the phone under his pillow. Until the seconds slipped by and he somehow felt empty, like he was missing something that was supposed to be evident. But they weren’t fighting anymore because the moments recently shared by them were so blissful, more than before and he felt so contented. And then Dean realized that they hadn’t even said those three words before hanging up…

The next day, he actually woke up at one, groggy and overslept, feeling like his brain was scattered around, the desperate need of Jess to take her into town for some groceries proved to be a drive that he enjoyed even though expecting otherwise. It gave them both a chance to engage in conversations without Sam around or the kids racing about, opening up to each other and realizing that certain things bothered her which very much aligned with Dean's own relationship. And whilst pushing the trolley through the supermarket, he picked up a box of cereal for the twins and studied her face with a look of utter surprise.

"He actually wants to move back here? Like… _really_ move back to Littleton after he's done with his degree?"

Jess collected two cans of corn from the shelf and smiled at him, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders. "Yep, and he wants to work with that guy Thomas Brady."

"Brady and Sons?" after receiving a nod, Dean tried to absorb the news as he fixed the loaves of bread in the trolley. "So he's got this all planned out, huh? You okay with all of this though?"

"Being away from you guys doesn't really bode well with him. He misses you, his dad and he wants the kids to grow up away from the terrible influences in New York. You know, people always say that modernization is the best thing to dwell in but Littleton is so simple and so beautiful. The kids would go to the schools here, I'd find a job and we could make it work."

"Plus I'd be a teacher here so it's not so bad. I mean the pay might suck…"

"We'd get by, Dean. Believe me, we would. You _know_ how I grew up in Paxton minus all the luxuries so I don’t like New York that much. We learned the hard way by spending money to be there and now I can't stand the place. Beef jerky?" She held up the packet and grinned.

"Hell yeah, give me those," snatching the snack with a low chuckle and reaching for two more packets, he deposited them all into the trolley. "How about almonds?"

"Those make Sam itchy. Walnuts instead. Do we need more coffee?"

"We always need more coffee," Dean helped her reach the top shelf and he felt his phone vibrate but after the bottle almost slipped from her grasp, the two of them ended up laughing heartily when they both did a dance whilst scrambling for the coffee.

"Sam's not like you at all," Jess said quietly, after they were retrieving the bags by the cashier and he handed her the lighter ones. "He's…all about these regimes."

"What regimes?" they walked out to the car and he pulled up the trunk before carefully setting down the fragile items first. The milk cartons were cushioned by the other bags so that those wouldn't tip over and he studied the eggs before deciding that those would ride up front with them.

"He's…all about being vegan, strict sleep schedules, minimal television time, planned study times, and sometimes I just want to do something reckless." Settling in the front seat beside Dean, she pushed back her blonde hair and sighed. "I want to go out and have a drink with him whilst my mom babysits the kids, binge watch television shows and stuff and he always complains."

"I have my quirks too, you know," firing up the engine, he sent her a wide grin and backed out of the parking lot.

"Like what?" she rolled her eyes and laughed. "Cooking, baking, cleaning, reading? There's nothing bad about you, no matter how hard I try to find something. And I think it's amazing how you just sidestepped all the bad influences Sam got himself pulled into and you still came out sane. Cas must be so glad to have you as a boyfriend. You're like the epitome of Prince Charming."

"Nah," blushing deeply, he checked the green light and headed towards the gas station because the tank was below the halfway marker. "Believe me, I'm not perfect."

"I'm not saying you _are_ , I'm just saying that you wear your flaws proudly and you're not about to monitor yourself. All Sam does is place controls on everything. Let me pay for the gas," she said, reaching for her purse.

"Are you insane? I'd never let a lady pay for anything unless it was one of my exes," winking at her, Dean killed the engine and pushed open his door, then he bent downwards and gripped the window. "Stay put and don't run away from my brother."

"Shush," batting away his remark, Jess settled into the car and pulled out her cellphone and as her brother-in-law disappeared into the shop, she barely glanced at the truck lingering by the next pump before brushing it off.

It happened so fast for Dean though, because from the moment he entered the small place manned by a lanky pimpled face teenager, his eyes rested on two beefy men in one of the lanes. They looked very familiar, and of course such a thing wasn't uncommon because of a small town like Littleton, so after paying for his gas, he was just about head to the door when one of them called him by his name.

At first, Dean was puzzled because he couldn't clearly understand how they were familiar with each other but after the door behind him was pressed close by a third man, his heart began to race. Adrenaline kicked in and when the punches started raining down everywhere, dulling his vision until he couldn't breathe, nothing else mattered but the pain. The sense of rolling under and becoming so weak as the wind was knocked out of him and they just kept swinging. The names they called him were very much suggestive of why the hatred was there, their hands also reached for his pants and because he was so captivated by terror and nausea, he drifted into unconsciousness.

Then when he did end up stirring a short time after, everywhere screamed out with pain, he tasted blood and faces were floating above him. And his vision became black after something smashed into his face and the world exploded.

"The fuck I will be held back…by _anyone_ who tries to hurt him. _My boy_ ," came John's loud voice from somewhere in the blackness where Dean swum around and couldn't feel anything. "Jess identified them, all three of them and I'll be damned if I don't press charges and get their asses thrown into jail. Mike should know better than to hire those redneck filth around here."

"Dad—"

"Don't _dad_ me, Sam. I'm raving mad right now because they beat him up so bad he can't even come to as yet. It's been a whole damn day! What if he doesn't come out of it?"

Dean drifted into nothing again and felt so trapped inside of his body, because he couldn't move anything, every time a breath was taken, a deep pain travelled upwards and almost exploded his head. There were no smells, just sounds and feeling like he was being buried under by heavy darkness until he tried to cry, the urge to scream or move was so difficult that he became so frightened.

"Have you called Cas?" Came John's voice again because his father's own was always louder than everyone else's. "Why hasn't he gotten his ass here as yet?"

"He's tied up with a client and I might not have told him the whole story," Sam said stiffly, "because I thought—"

"You _thought_? I'll be damned if I have to wring your neck until you do! He needs to be here, you hear me? Get him here now before I press charges on all you assholes, you son of a bitch."

_Cas…_

The name rested inside Dean's mind and he hung onto it until the blackness swept him under and then there were just words, strings of words.

_I never got to tell him I love him_

_…the last time we talked_

For the rest of the week, Castiel is back at work again and Dean spends his break from classes organizing the feeding program for when school opens and reading in different corners of the house. He also finds that giving Cas space is easier because they're in the same house and every day he still wanders over to see his dad and Sam.

Old Years night and Cas comes over, as the rest of the team plays twister, he's occupied with the baby. Sam jokes about Dean twisting around his damn wife. Someone spikes the punch a little too much and everyone blames Sam. Ellen and Jody dance all over each other. Minutes to twelve whilst everyone is prepping for the fireworks and goes out into the yard to light sparkles and flares, Dean is so giddy from the new year coming that he isn’t prepared for when Cas pulls him in the middle of everyone and pulls out the ring. He cries, nodding until he finally is able to say yes. And then they kiss just as the fireworks begin.

After sleeping in Cas bed, Cas tells Dean that he's ready and Dean finally does it, thankful that no one can hear them because they're loud and go at it for over an hour. After, they sleep way into midday and Cas wants him again, this time they end up in the bathtub where Cas doesn't hesitate and he braves it all by riding Dean. They eat a late lunch in front of the fire and talk about when they're going to get married. Cas wants to do it right away and Dean tells him that they should give the ladies time to plan everything.

Wedding – Begin at the moment John walks Dean down the aisle. Charlie is Dean's best woman. Sam is Cas best man and as Cas takes Dean's hand, he cries. Soul mate speeches. At the reception, after they dance, Claire dances with Cas and Charlie with Dean. Then they stick the cake and Dean smears icing over Cas before kissing it off, then they leave to spend their honeymoon in California whilst attending a Taylor Swift concert.

Dean pretends that he forgot Valentine's Day

End off with Dean and Cas coming in from the concert and after Cas sees the rose petals scattered all over, he realizes that Dean really didn't forget. They make love until they're exhausted and then they both agree that they'll officially take each other's last names.


	21. Chapter 21

**Excerpt:**

_“Speaking of chances…” Dorothy mused, winking at Dean as he accepted a beer from his brother to celebrate the evening, “have you two gotten a chance to…you know…play some golf?”_

_“Huh?”_

_The generous laughter that erupted after the look of utter confusion on the older Winchester’s face only puzzled him further until Jess leaned forward and whispered heavily. Immediately he flushed a deep shade of red, eyes widening and his grasp on the bottle slackening._

* * *

"What?" the rumble of Sam's voice and then the world around Castiel was muted, the very keen and prying eyes of Mr. Thatcher as he leaned forward with a quizzical look and then the tipping over of the room.

Reaching for the edge of the desk, he weakly pushed himself up, trying to form words but nothing happened, not even the easy reflex of breathing. All he could remember was the elaborate details handed over by Sam about Dean being beaten up, with broken ribs, fractured arm, a severe concussion and he wasn't waking up.

 _Dean_.

 _His_ Dean?

Castiel was crying by the time the driver helped him into the Bentley, a splitting migraine covering his entire skull as they sped away towards the motel and if it wasn't for his already packed bag resting on the bed, he didn't believe he could have completed the task. His mind was reeling by the time the path taken home was blasted by the car, and whilst he sat there in the backseat with listless eyes, every single regretful thing experienced between them wrapped in a suffocating net.

The drunk conversation hurt the most and still left an ache, the events that unfolded on Boxing Day after he pried the glass away from Dean because he couldn't simmer down his own disappointments in himself. He couldn't run upstairs, retrieve the ring and propose to the man he loved in front of everyone because he felt like it wasn't the right time. Castiel sobbed hoarsely in the backseat of the car, wishing that he could have wound back time and never made the decision to leave Dean's side because no client was ever more important than the man he loved.

Now, he was lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and bruised and he wasn't even nearby to rush to his side, to tend to him, to prevent all of this from happening in the first place. He could have prevented it if he stayed. He could have kept Dean by his side or followed him when they went out to buy groceries and nothing like this would have happened. It was his fault. It was all his fault because he was too reckless and only cared about himself, and his wealth and his reputation. And now he would die, would really die if Dean was too wounded to survive.

"Where to?" the driver asked, a worried expression plastered on his face in the rearview mirror.

"Saint Ann's Hospital," Castiel croaked, his face contorting as he couldn’t stop crying. "Hurry."

"He's going to be fine, boss," Ketch tried, his eyes studying the older man's bruised countenance in the backseat, "just breathe and take this one minute at a time."

_I'm never going to hurt you, Cas. I love you so much._

_I don't want to let it go. I don't want to let the best thing that's ever happened in my life so far slip away._

_I feel you everywhere, Cas. I don't want anyone else to have you._

_Your Clark Kent will always save you, Lois. You're my supernova._

The words stretching endlessly and going back to the days when he would part the blinds and notice Dean wandering around on the moor by himself, trying to catch butterflies at the age of twenty with a wide grin on his face. He was never like other boys, was never like any other man and now he was too young to suffer, to have to be on the receiving end of violence that Castiel pulled him into. Because he was the one who changed everything between them, admitted he loved him, wished for them to be in a relationship, flaunted them holding hands in public for people to see. He was the one who listened to the gossip and ignored the severity of those words, never believing that anyone would want to hurt Dean because he was in love with _him_.

By the time the Bentley pulled up in front of the hospital, Castiel was so weak that his mind spun dangerously and after wandering through the halls, he finally noticed John pacing the waiting room. Their eyes met, red swollen ones searching desperate, pleading ones and when they came together, the older man took his childhood friend into a firm hug.

"Thank god you're here."

"Where is he?" Castiel hoarsely asked when they pulled apart, "I need to…," words were escaping his mind.

"He's in there," John said softly, jerking his chin towards a private room, the likes of the taller Winchester lingered around behind the glass and Charlie was also by his side.

Sparing no seconds and feeling like his chest would explode along with his heart, Castiel weakly felt like he floated towards the door as tears stained his face. He was wearing Dean's dusty brown leather jacket still, couldn't part from it because the lining smelled like him, like Irish Spring and sandalwood and it was supposed to keep him warm. But he couldn't find a fire inside of his chest when the cause of it was lying motionless on a bed covered in white sheets.

He didn't even realize Sam almost rushed forward with an apology before Charlie pulled him back, because Dean's face was so bruised, the purple contrasted with his complexion like someone colored the spots with a harsh marker. His right arm was in a cast, bent at the elbow and propped up on a pillow, an IV drip hung from the left side of the bed and flowed into the other arm and a thick blanket covered most of his body clad in an awful yellow hospital gown.

"Oh god," Castiel croaked, his chest heaving and lips trembling as he slowly approached the bed and tenderly touched his lover's dark blonde hair. Tears dripped from the bridge of his nose and fell onto Dean's right shoulder. "Oh my dear god."

"Cas," it was Charlie, drawing nearer and capturing him in a hug that he just folded into before crying into her neck. "He's going to be okay, and he's going to wake up. He's got to wake up. He's just…got to," her voice broke as they hung onto each other and no matter how terrible he felt about letting all of it out, he was never ashamed of showing any weakness in front of the younger woman.

Both of them just stood by the bed afterwards, sad and afraid, and unsure of what was happening to cause Dean to stay under. Castiel wanted to touch him, to hold him so badly that he used so much willpower to prevent himself because it was evident that the younger man was suffering from broken ribs. His breathing was leveled out, lips parted and because there was nothing else but to provide some kind of certainty that he was there, slowly he slipped his fingers through motionless ones.

Fingers that touched him in so many places, always entwined with his own willingly, tenderly caressed his face in moments when they would gaze into each other's eyes and drown. Lips that found his own so easily, desperately at times as Dean struggled against his desire to kiss him, and those green eyes that…always made him fall in love with him all over again. He needed to gaze into those green eyes again, needed to tell him that he was loved and that he was sorry for behaving so foolishly two days ago. But he couldn't because no matter how he called out Dean's name, his lover didn't stir.

"Can you hear me?" Castiel tried softly, when the room was vacated and he remained alone. "Darling, can you…hear me? It's Cas and I'm…here. I'm here with you," his voice broke and giving in, his cupped fingers caressed a cheek that was cold and bruised. "Dean, you have to wake up. You have to…open your eyes if you can hear me. I need to know that you're...oh god," burying his face into hands that trembled, he shook from sobs because this was far worse than when they were in the same hospital and Dean was ravished by the flu years ago.

Back then, he was conscious, drifting in and out but able to speak and identify how he was feeling and now…he couldn't do it because something was happening that Castiel didn't understand. The word _concussion_ felt too generalized and like the umbrella under which many things could fall under, things he didn't want to think of but ended up suffering from anyway. A coma. No. Dean wasn't in one of those because he couldn't be. There was no way anything good could come out of a coma and for the time being, like the doctor explained, he was simply too traumatized physically to regain consciousness.

They had used their fists on him and then decided to tear his boxers open, almost wounding what they had no right to touch until Jess came barging in. If she wasn't in time, if she hadn't gone in there then the damage could have been worse, so much worse judging from the descriptions by the doctor. The trauma he must have experienced by being overpowered, by being so afraid, Castiel sunk into the chair by the window and he felt so lost, so confused and so broken. And no matter how many tears he cried, nothing changed Dean's condition, he felt helpless and useless that he wasn't even capable of helping the man he loved to come back to him.

It was two days of going in and out of the hospital, spending most of his hours in there and tending to Dean that caused Castiel to finally decide that there would be no guesses again, no more room for doubt afterwards. He kept the ring with him at all times after coming back to Littleton, anticipating the moment when Dean would be back on his feet again and then they would finalize what should have been done so long ago. Losing that chance wasn't something that Castiel wanted to live through again, and the thought of losing Dean completely crossed his mind many times before he pushed it aside and lived with hope because it was the only thought that kept him sane.

If he lost Dean, he wouldn't be able to survive; it was simple as that. No one else would ever do. No one would be able to penetrate his walls, and he couldn't ever be intimate with someone else when he had shared that bond with the younger man. It was like being marked, burnt and brought back to life, and whilst awakening into the splendor of a new world, there was only one person who could keep him alive. And if he couldn't have his _lifeline_ then he couldn't go on without him.

"How could anyone want to hurt him?" Charlie said two days after when they continued to give Dean a bath as best as they could because he couldn’t manage one on his own. "How could anyone hurt such a precious and beautiful person like him, Cas? He's so amazing, he's the nicest person I've ever met. And those guys thought they had the right to do this. How could this world be so fucked up? How could you look at someone and just decide that you're going to hurt them because of who they're with? Because they're different?"

"I don't know, Charlie," Castiel said weakly, studying the bandage around Dean's torso and feeling tears well up in his eyes. "I just don't know. I just want him to come back to me."

"He will. The doctor said soon and this morning when I held his hand like I told you, he held mine back so he's there. He's just…sleeping." She wasn't affected by her friend's nudity but always spared her presence so that Castiel could take care of changing Dean's pants. He deserved that kind of privacy and Castiel admired her for such a thing.

"Can you stay with him whilst I get something for both of us to eat? We've been here since this morning and it's after lunch."

Truly, he only wanted to escape long enough to push his way outside and try to breathe, sucking in generous amounts of fresh air and feeling his lungs burn from holding back for so long. Because being next to Dean when he was unresponsive was so devastating to Castiel that he was deeply affected in so many ways. He couldn’t eat, couldn't sleep and literally achieved two hours per night in the chair next to the hospital bed. He fueled himself on coffee and became twitchy, got constant migraines and vomited nothing but bitterness from an empty stomach and above all, he couldn't stop crying.

He couldn't understand how a God he worshiped would allow something so vile to occur and for a few seconds honestly believed that he was being punished for his wrongs. Maybe it was the fact that he fell for Dean when he was just a young man, twenty and lively and stealing away any other chance he could have at a future with a normal family. Maybe it was really a sin to be in love with another man, to be intimate with him, to have feelings and dreams of a future. Maybe this had nothing to do with God but everything to do with the devil who was embodied inside people like Crowley.

Dean never did anyone anything wrong to deserve such punishments. He was so good to everyone, like an angel with such a huge heart, loved children, wanted to become a teacher, he never skipped church on Sundays, had wanted to rejoin the Bible Club and choir, maintained his visits to the villagers and had conversations with them. He learned about their lives and tried to help in any way he could, wasn't even finished with his degree…

Sam showed up whilst he was just about to head inside again, and the two of them considered each other before the taller man offered an apology again. But the uneasiness was there, because they both understood the damage done and the hesitation that might have caused more pain.

"I thought he would come out of it," Sam said, holding his breath, "Cas, I really thought it wasn't going to be like this."

"You knew how badly beaten up he was," Castiel said hoarsely, still angered, "you knew the first time you called me how bad it was and you didn't think that it was necessary for me to know?"

"I didn't want you to worry—"

"That's not your decision to make."

"Cas, I get it, okay?"

"Do you?" the older man croaked, his fists balled and heart hammering until he was weakened. "Do you really _get_ it at all? Do any of you understand what this means to me?"

Sam sighed, gingerly chewed his lips and glanced around the vicinity containing a scarce amount of people who were either too distressed or too busied to reach their destinations. They weren't paying no attention to two men standing in each other's presence, obviously entertaining a heavily burdened conversation.

"He's my brother, Cas, he means a lot to me too—"

"Well, he's my…life," Castiel cried, tears trailing down his face, "Sam, your brother is everything to me. Whatever happens to him, I need to know. I deserve to know. That's not your decision to make, about how much I am entitled to know because of making me worry less. Dean is…he means so much to me, you may never be able to fathom how much depth there is between us."

Sam nodded slowly, swallowing before reaching up and dabbing at his face. "Yeah, I get it. I really do. Honestly I was just a little mad at you because you left without taking him along. And then I was mad at myself because I should have been there to protect him. We both should be there when one of us can't be. And I know how much you love him, Cas. I really do."

"You _should_ have been there," Castiel said, shaking his head and wringing his hands, "if I lose him, we're both to be blamed. This is the worst nightmare I've ever lived through in my entire life."

Sam stood back and allowed the older man to lead the way after they studied each other's faces, one of them trying to sympathize whilst the other merely glared back.

When Castiel returned to the room and he noticed the doctor and nurse gathered around Dean's bed, his knees weakened because the first thing that jumped into his mind was that he had lost him. That he would have to live the rest of his short life with so much pain after meeting his soul mate in this lifetime and having to let him go.

But when they turned to stare at him, something else was there. It was Charlie's beaming smile that guided him closer, her hands clasped and pressed to her mouth as she studied her friend lying on the bed. And when Castiel finally understood why everyone was so thrilled, the doctor turning to cast a warm smile in his direction, he began to cry because he was happy.

Those green eyes focused immediately on him after searching, and his lips barely moved, his hand lifting from the bed and Castiel quickly took it. So much passed between them, words unspoken but flowing abundantly until the room was vacated and Charlie remained and turning to consider both of them one at a time, Dean's eyes filled with tears.

He couldn't let Castiel's hand go though, held on weakly and secured that connection because they both longed for it. And after staying like that for what felt like a lifetime, when Dean finally drifted to sleep, he still maintained their entwined fingers and the older man didn't let him go.

"I told you he would come back," Charlie said, wrapping her hands around his neck and resting her chin on top of his head. The steady beeps from the machine weren't daunting anymore but reassuring. "He'll always be yours, Cas. You two are going to get married and live until you're old and grey together and then me and Dorothy will come over and we'll sit and talk about these days. We might end up being those old people in Bible Club who always have the craziest things to say about those awfully long verses."

The radio was on and softly playing Show Me Heaven by Maria Mckee and for many years to come, Castiel would always remember that song and how the lyrics swept him up. Those words held him and drowned him, because it was exactly how Dean made him feel…

> _Here I go_
> 
> _I'm shakin' just like the breeze_
> 
> _Hey baby_
> 
> _I need your hand to steady me_
> 
> _I'm not denyin'_
> 
> _I'm frightened as much as you_
> 
> _Though I'm barely touching you_
> 
> _I've shivers down my spine_
> 
> _And it feels divine_
> 
> _Oh, show me Heaven, cover me_
> 
> _Leave me breathless…_

On the third day, on the 30th in the midst of children lighting flares and preparation for Old Year's well underway at the various party points, Castiel sat with Dean at the back of the Bentley and he held him in his arms tenderly. The warm bundle of a man who had turned his life upside down in ways no one could ever understand, in ways that left Castiel unsteady and stable at the same time, shaking and drowning, drowning and alive. And because Dean's lips were bruised, he didn't dare a kiss, something that he craved for, but instead he simply held him.

He helped him up to his room because it was a place where Dean always called his sanctuary and whilst everyone watched, ready to offer assistance, Castiel fixed the blanket and fluffed the pillows. He sat by his bedside and fed him soup slowly, pausing to caress Dean's bruised face that was still beautiful and he helped guide the straw between his lips. And even when Ellen decided that she would stay for as long as possible to help in any way she could, Castiel still remained glued to his lover's bedside.

Dean couldn't speak as yet because of the boot that was smashed into his face, the severity of the damage to his vocal cords minimal but after straining to cry out when he was beaten, he couldn't find his voice as yet. But he compensated by using his hands, by weakly reaching out and showing how appreciative he was and drowning in love from the soft caresses on Castiel's face. He tenderly brushed his left hand on the other man's arm, squeezing as soft tears trailed down his face. And when Ellen left the two of them alone again, Dean raked his fingers into Castiel's hair and pulled him closer.

Foreheads pressed together, their noses nudged softly before they adjusted positions so that their arms looped around each other. Sitting on the bed beside the younger man, he felt at home in more ways than one, perhaps elated that consciousness couldn't present a cloud of doom. Now they were back again on the same page, and at least he could hold him, could gaze into those green pools of love and drown in them.

The kiss was soft and barely there at first, but from holding back, their lips trembled, their eyes fluttered close and Castiel tried again. He captured Dean's mouth onto his and stayed there before the younger man parted his lips and pushed in deeper. Then despite whatever discomfort there was from his bruises, when Dean deepened the kiss, Castiel moaned, the sound escaping from deep down inside where he had been dying. Now, he was coming to life again and with their cheeks rubbing together, a soft croak emanated from Dean.

Immediately he pulled back and gazed into green eyes, searching. "Darling, what is it? Are you thirsty?" the small frown followed with a struggle on Dean's face and his lips moved but no sound came out. "Are you in pain?"

Shaking his head, the younger man decided that he needed to try as hard as he could. "I…" he croaked before swallowing hard and chest heaving, he inhaled deeply. "I—"

"You don't have to say anything right now," Castiel whispered, tenderly patting Dean's face and gazing at him fondly. "You're saying enough already. You've said enough to me. You've done so much for me. I can't…ever forget the things you've done to change me, to make me realize that I deserve to be treasured by someone like you. And I can't lose you."

"I…love…you," Dean managed, tears clouding his eyes when their gaze was enacted. "Cas…" and then smiling warmly, he shifted closer until he simply leaned forward and gave into defeat.

Castiel collected him immediately into a tender embrace as he always would, "I love you too. I love you so much."

"Don't leave me," Dean croaked, rubbing his face gingerly into the older man's neck and letting the tears escape. "I need…you."

"I wouldn't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

It was later down in the evening when he left to pack a bag that Dean finally braved it to stand up on his own. His legs were fine, thankfully not broken and what roused him from the bedroom was the baby's wailing. It was such a strange sound coming from the child because he never cried, he was always a bundle of laughter and because Dean's chest ached as if he needed to do something about it, he slowly stood up, winced from the heaviness of the pain setting in. And he guided himself towards the steps.

As soon as Sam highlighted his brother at the top of the staircase, he rushed up and helped him down one step at a time. They always were so codependent on each other over the years, guiding and reassuring, understanding and trusting. Therefore, there was no hesitation on the younger Winchester's behalf by allowing the opportunity to unfold because he understood why Dean felt compelled to remove himself from his room. Those four walls were beginning to close in on him and now, as he eased himself onto the sofa in front of the fire, the baby's wails died down instantly.

Dean junior coughed and gazed into his uncle's eyes, almost as if he was astounded to see him after such a long time. His fisted hands waved and he gurgled until squirming ensued, to which Jess safely deposited the bundle beside Dean. Instantly the baby pulled himself up on his unsure feet and he lightly touched his uncle's casted arm before staring in amazement at the pools of green that studied him. All the while everyone was admiring the scene unfolding, and quite a soft one it was to witness the depth of a bond between two souls that latched onto each other; a baby who was always amazed by his uncle's charms and an uncle who was glorified to have a nephew like the bundle of joy.

The twins read to him for a lengthy period of an hour, and by the time they were beginning Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Castiel came into the house to find Dean nodding off in front of the fire. He stared at first, wondering how on earth the younger man managed to come downstairs and then after meeting eyes with Sam coming out of the kitchen, a sense of acknowledgement passed between them. And although they were still at odds with each other over a very nonsensical disagreement, they passed by with ease before the taller man collected the twins and the older one eased himself beside the sleeping form of Dean.

He was still sitting upright, a heavy blue blanket tucked around him, compliments of his nieces and his feet were clad in two pairs of socks. The Scooby Doo purple pajamas gave him the appearance of an overgrown kid, and Castiel's disposition softened when he carefully wound an arm around Dean's waist and tugged him nearer. His head lolled onto the older man's left shoulder, melting into the embrace instantly before those green eyes blinked slowly, opening to fixate on the dancing flames in the hearth. And when he realized that the warmth reaching his soul was from the person sheltering him so blissfully, Dean turned his face to gaze into blue pools of love.

“My voice is slowly coming back,” he croaked, smiling wryly. “On my way to harassing you with too many words.”

“You’d never be a burden with your speeches,” Castiel said as his eyes filled with tears. “You can speak endlessly.”

Their lips brushed instantly because of their proximity, and whilst he sought out Castiel's skin, carding his hand up the older man's maroon sweater, Dean leaned in a little more until they formed that connection again. This time, it was with a generous amount of need to just take what Castiel desired, like his soul was thirsty. His parted lips fitted so perfectly between Dean's own before they delved in a little more and tasted each other again. And he found heaven in that kiss, his mind spinning and heart melting although they couldn't become physical with each other, the need was there.

Under the blanket, whilst everyone was safely tucked away upstairs, Castiel felt Dean's hand claiming whatever he wished for. Reaching for him inside of his boxers and stroking whilst they kissed slowly and longingly, helping him achieve a sense of blossoming that was long overdue. After the heaviness of the past few days, the desperate need to peel away the shell of worry and doubt and pain to stretch his wings again in their love, the older man mewled through the workings of a generous hand. The way Dean maintained that rhythm and slowed just before the climax, almost as if he understood every single part of their lovemaking and was determined to tease until…

Castiel was breathless and trembling on the edge, his fingers raking pathways into dark blonde hair and leaning in further, he gasped into Dean's neck. His chest heaved uncontrollably whilst his cock was tormented, whilst the younger man grazed his teeth across the shell of Castiel's ear and strained inside his own pants. And because the fear of being caught was so evident enough to heighten the moment, they both came hard together, burying their hoarse cries into each other's necks.

It was so much release for the two of them, so deserving that they kept tethering on the edge and Castiel weakened in Dean's embrace through it all. His body yearned for that delicious skin on skin contact, but was patient enough to compensate with anything else. Small kisses on the younger man's face for example, trying to erase those bruises, his fingertips travelling across Dean's heaving chest under his sweater and despising the bandage around his torso. The way their feet tangled whilst still sitting, their control on each other heightened especially since Castiel marveled over how he could have pushed Dean over the edge without touching him inside of his pants. And then just when they were both satisfied in that moment, still swimming in passion ablaze like the fireplace, their arms wrapped around each other.

It was so satisfying to sit there in comfort and simply gaze into the flames, in a kind of silence that was filled with love and beauty from their company. Even though Sam returned downstairs to pick up a game of cards with his wife after putting the kids to bed, there were no interruptions. Even when Ellen came through the backdoor and settled at the table with the younger Winchester, engaging herself in the game, the couple remained on the couch.

The front door opened up and was wildly thrown close after John came in, face reddened and fists clenched. "Hell to pay!" he tossed his dark navy blue coat onto the rack and glared around at everyone. "Cas," settling his scowl upon his childhood friend, the older man jerked his chin towards the back of the house. "We got to talk."

No one could have formulated any response because it was evident that John was furious, but Ellen being strong and also summoned by the two men, rose up and followed. Which left the three young people to throw glances at each other, Dean painfully feeling Castiel's absence after settling into his lover's arms and now having no arms to comfort him. Sam though, was always the playful one and quietly rising up from his chair, he snuck toward the backdoor on the tips of his toes and rested his ear upon the glass.

"Goddamn truth, I swear, Jody just got off the phone with the authorities in New York and it's clear as day who did it, who orchestrated the whole damn thing!"

Castiel stared at John, his blue eyes fiery and shoulders squared and he couldn't believe what he was being told. "Crowley…" he seethed through his teeth, "did that to Dean."

Ellen could only stare as the truth settled in and the wrath was felt from both of her friends. "Well I'll be damned. He's always had it in for all of us but Dean? He used to be so nice to him."

"The witch fattening the children for the feast, is what it is," John sighed, tossed a glare at the forest behind the house already darkened and shadowed and he turned back to study Castiel's icy glare. "I say we finish this off for good now. We find a way to nail the bastard and make it final because I will not tolerate anyone hitting on my boys and--"

"He's finished," the other man delivered in a flat tone, already pulling out his cellphone and tapping on the screen. "He is not going to get any kind of fucking justice after this. I will make sure that he rots in a fucking cell until rats fester on him. In every possible way," he studied Ellen's surprised expression because she was not accustomed to him swearing, "I will fucking _end_ him. Let me handle this. I'll be back."

And after he strode away, descended the stairs and walked out into the snowy backyard until he was out of earshot, the two friends who remained behind sent each other bewildered stares. Three calls he made afterwards, the first to Jody who elaborated on the charges and the connections revealed from one of the men who spilled the truth easily. He cracked under pressure because of his buddies declining to plead guilty and after deciding that jail may not be the best place for him, Crowley's name came up easily.

The second call went directly to Balthazar who was furious from just the mention of that one name that left a bitter taste in his mouth. His experience with the bastard never quite ever settled over the years and because he had a wealth of influence in many areas including law, he could have done anything.

"I could make one call," Balthazar said angrily, "Cassie, I can call someone who can make him disappear if you'd like. All you have to do is say the words."

Castiel didn’t even hesitate. "Do it," he literally stated through his teeth, "but ensure that he suffers immensely for at least five more years until insanity is welcoming as his new peace. Take him far away and bury his name under the piles of shit he's put people through, including yourself and Benny and Amelia and all the other victims who never received the justice they deserved."

Possibly the only disappointed feeling from the entire ordeal was that he couldn't come face to face with Crowley and beat his face into a messy pulp. Castiel had no boundaries to his wrath whenever someone he deeply cared about was wounded and for the first time in his life, that particular person was his most special gift. Dean would never be able to gratify himself with the truth of what may happen to Crowley because he was kind and believed in forgiveness, but he wouldn't be given the full truth anyway. In fact, even Castiel wouldn't be privy to whatever would happen, because Balthazar liked to take care of things without leaving loose ends and elaborating. And this was the perfect opportunity to blast the crisis without having to worry about carrying around the looming act of silencing a threat.

The last call he delivered was to a friend of his who happened to be a very successful financial advisor, and the intent of the conversation was to finalize something very crucial to his future. In more ways than one, it wasn't his future alone now, but one that encompassed someone else who needed to be provided for in the event that something unfortunate may happen to him. Castiel, was of the impression that the age gap may not be a challenge in those early days but he believed years down the line, they would both feel the effects of it. He was of course twenty years older, and the only way to secure Dean living a life without him eventually, there was only one thing to do.

He willingly approved the decision to attach Dean to all his finances, be them inheritances, his wealth gained from being employed, whatever shares he may have in many businesses and also something else. For the past twenty five years, he had been accumulating money into an account for one purpose only; and that was to take care of Dean's education path followed by his career. And although the younger man believed that his university fees were being taken care of through an account by his parents, it had always been Castiel, who chose to remain unanimous.

"What's going on?" were the first words Dean croaked out after he returned to the couch before the fireplace. A frown deepened that bruised face which was still beautiful when admired by blue eyes. "Cas?" his worried expression only presented a deep wound in the older man's heart which didn't disappear even after they returned to embracing each other.

"Absolutely nothing for you to worry about, darling. Are you comfortable?" adjusting the blanket around them, feet tucked under, Castiel fixed Dean's casted left arm into a desired position. "Would you like me to take you upstairs?" He hated lying to the man he loved but felt it necessary especially in Dean’s condition. The truth would be revealed later.

"No," the younger man said softly, expression strained from the aches throughout his body, "painkillers? Hurts like hell."

"Got you covered," Ellen showed up beside the couch and presented the remedy, then after slipping the capsules into Dean's mouth, she tipped the glass of water so that he could down them. "Easy there, honey. You know, you're going to be good as new in no time. You'll patch up fast." She patted his head, a habit developed since he was a toddler and then returned to the table where Sam was trying to cheat against his wife in a game of Uno.

For a while the two of them simply sat there again gazing into the fire, Castiel spreading out Dean's fingers and playing with them, fitting his own in between and then caressing the soft, smooth skin. He traced the lines on the younger man's palm, upwards until his thumb ran across the simple inked words. Three words that would have probably meant the world to Dean over the years, in ways that Castiel wouldn't have been privy to because of the secrets between them. But thankfully, he understood why those experiences were concealed in those times, because like Dean indeed pointed out before, he would have been hysterical over the mishaps.

He was always so protective of him, so daring to do whatever it took to keep him safe, that Castiel used to think that their future would always be merged together. Before he fell in love with Dean, he used to gaze upon the younger child and marvel over his ability to reach a depth which many children his age couldn't tap into. Meanings between words in novels, he would grasp them so easily almost as if he was an old soul. Poetry was his forte and he loved to dabble with any musical instrument, including the piano and violin a very long time ago. There used to be moments when Castiel would have conversations with an eight-year-old Dean that would have appeared to an outsider as if they were adults speaking to each other, their language relaxed and open.

He was wise beyond his years, far too superior in knowledge even above his own brother and the worst kind of tragedy was him being quite unaware of his worth. Why were precious jewels so astounded by their qualities when someone finally highlighted those? Dean never really grasped the entirety of his beauty even when Castiel elaborated and he still found difficulty in seeking out solace from learning of how precious he was. These things troubled the older man most times, but he was determined to spend the rest of his life convincing Dean of his self-worth, every single day he would, every single hour if he could.

"Stay?" came the soft words delivered under the crackle of the logs, when their fingers were entwined.

Castiel nodded, his fingers buried inside Dean's soft hair. "Of course. Forever. I'm never leaving you again."

"Don't…"

Frowning, the older man studied the creased forehead depicting a struggle with pain and he wished that he could absorb all of it. "Hmm?"

"Kevin Costner…my…bodyguard." Dean groaned after shifting on the couch. "I should…lie down." Tears filled those green eyes and immediately he was gently collected as Castiel looped an arm around him and then Sam rushed to assist.

The climb up the staircase was slowly gradual because of the stiffening of the older Winchester's joints and the struggle to breathe when his chest felt like his ribs were on fire. But he managed just fine although the journey was paced and by the time he was settled onto the bed and buried within the covers, Castiel really began to feel overwhelmed from his inability to soothe the distress.

"What can I do, Dean?" he was on the verge of tears whilst settling on the edge of the bed and becoming tangled with doubts. "Do you want me to run a warm bath for you? Should I just hold you? Is _that_ going to hurt you? If I hold you? Do you want me to…"

"Talk to me," Dean said softly, grimacing from the river of torture coursing through his left arm.

"Okay," slipping off his trench coat, Castiel draped it neatly over the back of a nearby chair and approached the bed. He peeled away the heavy blanket, toed off his shoes one by one then climbed in whilst green eyes studied his every move. "Whilst I was away from you, I did a lot of thinking—"

"That's never good," Dean mumbled, pinching the top of the blanket nervously and shifting uncomfortably all the same.

"Why?" the older man frowned, folding his arms and appearing worried.

The blinds lightly fluttered and a soft chill came into the room. Dean though, was smothered in warmth and enough discomfort from a low wave of pain that covered his body. "Just teasing you, man." Green eyes sparkled and a small chuckle emanated from within Dean's chest. He sighed and shook his head as he was scowled at.

"I'm not sure that sounds quite comforting." Castiel felt a dull pain inside his heart and swallowed down the paranoia of sarcasm delivered by the other man. He must have been overthinking those words but then the slight grimace from the severity of Dean's wounds didn't quite provide any clarity to soothe his worry. "Is it supposed to be comforting?"

"Cas?" their eyes met and blue ones widened, almost fearful of a row between them when it was quite ridiculous to entertain such an occurrence. "You good?" Dean asked in a croak, whilst his throat ached after being trampled on and his joints were on fire because the pain medication simply did not kick in fast enough. "Ever since I came out from going under, you've been giving me this look."

"What look?"

Dean sighed and turned his eyes to the door leading into the shower, a simple door made of oak with no special details but a silver knob. "Like you're…terrified I might drop a bomb and blow up…something," Dean said stiffly. "I couldn’t stay out of trouble without you being around.”

"I'm so sorry, darling," Castiel said hoarsely, tearing up and his fingers curling upon the bunched-up blanket. "Dean, I'm sorry that I left you here and such a terrible thing happened."

"It's not your fault. It's mine."

The space between them fell into a silence for a while as blue eyes studied the beautiful features of a young man who was eager to believe that he deserved the injustices of the world. “How was any of that your fault?”

"Cas, I let my guard down, you know?" Dean tried to explain whilst fighting his tears and the pain inside his throat. “When they started swinging, I was too stunned to fight back. And I've reached a point where I've accepted that I'm nothing but a soft defenseless wimp."

"Dean, don't say those things—"

"Why, Cas?" the younger man croaked, turning to allow their eyes to meet and his own delivered pain and disapproval in himself. "Why the hell not, huh? Since when have I ever done something that makes me look tough?"

"Every day? You're the strongest man I've ever known, Dean," Castiel said softly, blinking slowly and providing every single ounce of adoration he could. "You've fought your own battles, have a kindred spirit and nothing is wrong with being considerate and understanding of the simpler things in life. Those things actually have the most value."

"Of course you'd think that of me," Dean said with a scoff, and the shake of his head. "You're the one person who loves me more than I love myself. I'm not a knight in shining armor, Cas. I'm more like a princess."

"You're _my_ princess," Castiel croaked, tenderly touching the younger man's face, the light from the lamp playing upon those handsome features. "You're my knight in shining armor. So what? Hmm?"

“I’m weak. I'm always looked at as some kind of a punching bag. Nothing good comes out of being an easy target."

"Good things have happened to you, Dean. Can you try to remember those instead of the bad ones?"

"Just so hard sometimes to pull those memories up when shit hits the fan…"

"What's the best thing that has ever happened to you in your life?" Castiel reached behind them and fluffed the pillows a little more before snaking an arm around Dean's shoulders and drawing him in closer.

"You," without hesitation…the answer was so simple, almost like his entire being was consumed by it. "Every single thing about you. Don't ask me questions like that when the answer is so clear."

Castiel felt fingers entwining with his own and then his hand was boldly guided into the younger man's pants, until he could feel how warm and ready he was to embrace the sense of touching and teasing.

What ended up commencing as a simple caress between them evolved into a definite stroking that sent Dean jumping off the edge as he came warm with a slow release. His toes curled, head tilted back and eyes glazed over until the sweet words whispered against the shell of his left ear soothed his pain away. Very soon, he drifted into a deep slumber where his joints didn't ache but became like jelly because he was wrapped in the balm of love.

Xx

"I feel like New Years' Eve is supposed to be all about sparkles and fireworks and food," Charlie said to Sam on the 31st when the spread on the table was generous just after two in the afternoon. "There's ham, and turkey and mashed potatoes and beans and veggies. Like what else can heaven be made up of?"

"A Whitney Houston live concert featuring Michael Jackson?" Sam plucked up a grape from the bowl and tossed it into his mouth, beaming at his friend who had become like a sister. "Ponies prancing about and unicorns grazing on the horizon? Your kind of thing maybe?"

"More like Dean's, but I'm not complaining. I mean, if I could sit back and watch bunnies slide down rainbows, I'm totally fine. Hey!" calling out to her best friend slowly descending the staircase, dressed handsomely in a black and red plaid shirt, Castiel's black leather jacket and faded blue jeans, he appeared groggy but well rested. "Come over here and eat something before we make it all disappear."

Dean dragged himself over, planted a kiss on her forehead and shouldered Sam aside before he collected a plate. "I feel like my body's been run through a mill and is trying to piece itself back together."

"Are you referring to a good romping around with Cas or…" after Sam received a wild glare from his brother, he offered a shrug upon his lips and decided that the answer was clear. "Don't worry. When you recuperate, everything will be back to normal. Where is Cas?"

"Gone home to handle something," avoiding their eyes, he settled on a portion of beans, potato and ham and lowered himself slowly onto a chair by the table. "Dude, I need to get out of this house for _at least_ half an hour. I'm beginning to feel like I'm suffocating."

"Well, the baby needs a few supplies," Sam said glancing at the kitchen where Jess was washing up the pots, "we could head out and grab those then come right back. Unless you're not up to going so far…"

"Hell, I'm game," Dean started to chew faster but winced from the stiffness of his jaw that was still recovering from the blows dealt to it. It might be a month or two before he was safely patched up but in the meantime, everything was happening so slowly. He couldn't even swing his arms around fully, his chest ached and the migraines came more frequently. "You coming with?" he jerked his chin at Charlie who was scrutinizing his face with twinkling green eyes.

"Nah, Jess and I are supposed to prepare the snacks for later. It's going to be a long night, you know? Plus Dorothy's coming over, Ellen, Bobby, uncle Balth, Benny, Jody, Donna…"

"Claire and Kaia?" Dean forked up a cut of ham and pushed it into his mouth then savored the honey taste. Had to be compliments of Ellen who always prepared the best turkey and ham on every occasion.

"They're going to an Old Year's party somewhere in town," she shook her head and smiled whilst Sam scooped up the twins from by the tree and deposited them onto the carpeted floor by the kitchen. "Oh to be young and in love."

"What's wrong with us?" Dean frowned and studied her face, "we're not old. We could go to those parties but it's not our thing, especially since the family will be hanging here."

"And Cas would totally miss you," she said softly, admiring him fondly, "how are things with the two of you? Everything groovy?"

Dean tilted his head and avoided eye contact whilst he chewed, then he reached for his glass of water and swallowed. "We're good. I feel like he blames himself for what happened to me, because he wasn’t here. But I'm not prepared to let him take responsibility for that."

"And he shouldn't."

"Yeah, you try telling someone like Cas that. The guy who took up the role of being my guardian angel since the day I was born. He blames himself if I get a headache, or I get a bad grade…it's just who he is."

"Just means that he loves you, Dean. Dorothy does the same thing to me, actually. If I cut my finger, she complains about sharpening the knife too much. If I burn the toast, she takes it upon herself for distracting me. It's always like that because they're just soft for us and maybe it could get annoying at times, but I don't let it bother me."

"So it appears as if I'm being held against my own will," Sam showed up looking defeated, "my wife wants me to hang around so that I can start bringing out the chairs and tidying up a bit. And since you're not going out there alone after getting your ass kicked by those apes…" he glanced behind him as the sound of the backdoor being locked drifted towards them, "you're going to go out there and get some fresh air with no other than—"

"Cas!" Charlie sprung up from the chair and rushed over to the older man who came through the doorway from the kitchen.

Whilst she enveloped him in a tight hug, his leather jacket bunching up from the impact, Dean stopped eating, tilted his head sideways and his forehead creased from being utterly confused. Wasn't Castiel supposed to be missing for at least two more hours whilst fixing up some finances and whatever else he needed to tend to? Why did he enter the house from the backdoor and why did he decide to wear black jeans when he never slipped into anything but tailored pants?

The sight of the older man decked out in all over black was a little too much for Dean to digest the same time whilst consuming his lunch and swallowing hard, he decided that he needed the distraction. He needed to unwind, to escape a little and free his mind and the two of them spending quality time together wasn't such a terrible thing. He favored Castiel's company and preferred it more than anything else in the world but the one worrying factor that kept nagging at Dean was being in public with the man who he loved.

People would stare and make their own comments since the fight in the gas station had spread like wildfire and by then all of Littleton obviously was familiar with their relationship. Dean's sexuality was probably broadcasted into the next town over and he couldn't hide inside the house for the rest of his life, could he? He needed to face the fire and display his confidence in their company, despite knowing that their circles of gossip included his own personal life.

"Dean," Castiel said warmly when the two of them lingered by the coat rack and their eyes met. "Are you layered up sufficiently?"

Collecting a heavy blue coat, Dean slipped through one hand and the older man collected the other sleeve to help him. "Guess I am." He winced from the movement of his arm and immediately stepped in further to simplify the process, almost as if he was dressing a child. They gazed fondly at each other, understanding that this wasn't suggestive of usurping a dominant role in any fashion but rather much assistance fueled by love. "Cas, you done doing whatever you were doing over at your place?"

"Yes," they headed out the door and Sam locked up behind them, his grin framed by the glass as the two descended the stairs. Castiel comfortably rested a palm on Dean's back and remained close enough so that there was no distance between them. "Will you let me drive?"

Such a request, of course, stunned the younger man who waited until they were both by the Impala and then he turned to study those pools of blue. "My legs are all good to go, you know. Just my right arm is in this damn ugly cast. And when last have you driven a damn car? I think it was ages ago."

"I drove into town yesterday with Sam in the pickup to pay the utility bills, Dean. I am quite a seasoned driver, despite the fact that you haven't seen me behind the wheel in a long time." Castiel caught the keys that were tossed to him and he stared at them before locking eyes with the younger man who was already on the other side of the car and beaming. "Are you sure?"

"Why not?" Dean pulled open the door and his complexion paled from the heavy coldness outdoors. "Never had my boyfriend drive me somewhere. About damn time you start letting Baby get used to you too. Hopefully she doesn't get jealous."

Castiel eyed the car cautiously before he pulled open the door and neatly entered and because of his worried scrutiny of the wheel and the fear of the car being an actual living thing, all of this unearthed a soft chuckle from Dean. He slid across the seat until their thighs were touching and taking the older man's right hand into his own, he guided the key into the slot then turned it. After the engine fired up, Dean entwined their gloved fingers and took a hold of the steering wheel, and because Castiel was so deeply affected by the simple gestures, he turned his face to consider green eyes. Immediately the lack of space between them caused their lips to brush, and the older man trembled like a leaf.

His eyes fluttered close, falling into Dean's kiss that was so soft and perfect that the hum of the engine died away. Instead the space was filled with a low moan emanating from deep within Castiel, their coats bundling up and getting in the way. Breathless they were by the time the world came back into focus, grazing their lips together and noses nudging until they were both smiling. The older man cupped Dean's face into his gloved hand and pushed back dark blonde hair behind an ear before he rested their foreheads together. Love was so toe curling between them, so perfect, more than blissful and peaceful and turning his head onto Castiel's right shoulder, Dean remained close whilst the older man backed the Impala out smoothly and they headed towards the thick trees.

Not a word was said between them all along the way, but the soft tunes on the oldies channel filled the car. There were so much memories in that car and on it too, memories shared between them like the times when Dean wasn't even aware of Castiel's feelings but could have felt a heavy tension. When they deposited Crowley on his doorstep many weeks ago and the older man kept fussing about ridiculous things, he stared at the red light and stole Dean's phone. When they made out after coming in from the orphanage's party not so long ago. Boxing Day and the shattering feeling of tethering on the edge of their demise, an intoxicated Castiel ranting on and on about how insecure he was.

When they were inside the supermarket, Dean manned the shopping cart and he became lost in admiring the older man's attire; tight black jeans that accentuated his toned thighs and perfect rear. Even as Castiel tried to reach onto a top shelf for a box of pampers of the wrong size, Dean couldn’t stifle his chuckle because he was also quite overwhelmed with the slice of skin that showed itself. Skin that his fingers dug into, pressing kisses onto the older man's hips and feeling him writhe underneath until—

"Uh, those are the wrong size, I'm sure of it," Dean collected the box and returned it to its place before their eyes met. "The medium fits him better because he's chubby. Also, _bouncy_ is his theme…" he gestured at the label highlighting a playful toddler.

Castiel stared, nodded slowly and then said, "of course, he is," before they continued down the aisle and he perused the list consisting of Jess' neat handwriting.

"What's next? Milk?" Dean stalled the cart by the specific category of products and scanned the shelves with a sense of scrutiny.

"How did you…"

"A baby's elixir is milk and since my namesake doesn't breastfeed, he pretty much sucks up this stuff," the younger man plucked a packet of powdered milk then two more before tossing them into the cart. "Not bad considering that he takes like two bottles per day, lukewarm at eight in the morning and eight in the night."

"Dean, you are astounding me," Castiel blinked in amazement whilst they moved along the aisle and a young woman neared them, fussing over her own baby and trying to maneuver the trolley at the same time. "Have you ever fed him?"

"Like every day when he's here," those green eyes latched onto the squirming infant who was on the verge of exploding into tears and the mother simply could not reach for the cereal. "Here, let me help you," he discarded his own trolley and darted over to assist her retrieving the boxes from the shelf. Her admiration for his hasty response was so evident that the two of them laughed after bumping into each other as strangers and still being able develop that level of trust despite that fact.

"Thank you so much," the baby wouldn't stop fussing and he literally initiated a struggle that resembled a fight between him and his mother before she embraced defeat. "Can you hold him? My arms are just aching so much," her eyes darted to Castiel before she smiled wryly. “I mean, if the cast on your arm is a bother then…”

Dean willingly eased the baby away from his mother's arms and those huge pools of brown eyes widened after meeting green ones. They instantly developed a bond that was so pure and innocent that Castiel's heart melted further, his knees weakened and his eyes glistened with tears. When the baby's fists unclenched and small fingers pressed onto Dean's face, patting the soft stubble and after the black framed glasses were reached for, the young woman reached out and batted his hands away. And despite him being rooted to the spot, Castiel slowly tried to form words but none escaped his lips because he was so mesmerized by the sight before him.

There Dean was, hugging the baby and bouncing him up and down whilst his countenance registered nothing but happiness, utter delight and his comfort…he was so calm.

"You're a natural," the mother said smiling widely whilst quickly perusing the aisle for whatever she needed. "I'm guessing you two already have raised a kid together, haven't you?"

Dean smiled, his cheeks glowing and Castiel chewed on his lips as their eyes connected before he decided to provide clarity. "Actually, we haven't started a family of our own as yet but we're most definitely heading in that direction."

"At least you wouldn't have to push one of _him_ out," she gestured to her son who was bubbling with laughter from Dean's soft coos and his teasing, "it was hell for me with his size. I'm actually pretty sure adopting wouldn't be so bad because you two would be great parents. You have that _look_ that screams perfect parents plus you're obviously in love, something most couples don't maintain for long."

"Try the green one," Dean noticed her struggling with her decision on which teething toy to choose, and immediately her impressed look was delivered. He shrugged before shifting the baby onto his left hip and drifted nearer. "Thing is, all the others are mostly for if their teeth are already popping out, but since he's just barely there, the green one isn't so tough. My sister-in-law learned the hard way until I did some research. Now my nephew's all good."

"This one's a keeper," she directed at Castiel who simply stood there drowning in the scene unfolding before him. "I'd say to hurry up and make a baby with him but unfortunately, nature's a bitch."

"I can do a little hocus pocus somewhere in the mountains and see what happens," Dean winked at her. "What do you think?"

"I think if you go and see aunt Bessie, anything is possible," she said, referring to the rumored village witch who made miracles happen. "What do you think about bottles? Any advice on which one lasts longer?"

"Hmm," Dean scrutinized the brands and debated on two before plucking one off the shelf and handing it to her. "Comes with two nipples, depending on how hungry he is, you can alternate because of the size of the holes. Also, it's made of this kind of material that wouldn't get too hot when you hold it, and it's shatter resistant. Just in case he throws it onto the floor."

"Oh he does that a lot, I’m Ruby by the way." They made introductions and then she highlighted the passing of her husband a month ago, falling from a building to his death after the scaffolding he was placed on broke into two. Her new home was with her mother not too far away where she seemed to be coping a little better every day.

After she collected her son and waved goodbye to them, his little arms reaching for Dean, Castiel couldn't contain himself. He closed the distance between them, without a care in the world about the lane being frequented by shoppers. Their gaze deepened immediately, Dean's lips parting and when he was suddenly kissed so deeply, an arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him in, the world spun dangerously. The two of them became lost in the moment whilst their lips searched and hearts hammered away and by the time they pulled away, Castiel's response to whatever had occurred within the past few minutes was delivered successfully.

A few people stared at them, others whispered and smiled and neither did they care or notice for a prolonged period whilst their shopping commenced. In the process of gathering up the other items successfully whilst stunning Castiel with his expertise in all areas, their gloved hands entwined. They stayed desirably near and feeling flushed from how intense their attraction to each other was, neither could conceal their breathless responses. Every single time Dean glanced at the older man, he became lost in those blue ocean eyes. And Castiel…

He couldn't highlight a specific word to describe how beautiful the moment was, a simple task of shopping had evolved into a stolen messages between the two of them. Soft chuckles, bumping hips and leaning into brush their lips upon each other's ears. By the time they reached the cashier, she was captivated by their chemistry that her comments only were in favor of the match. Even the packer beamed at them, a spritely young man who resembled Garth and after helping them to take the items out in a trolley, Castiel tipped him generously.

Just as he was reaching for his car door though, Dean spotted a familiar face idling by the newspapers rack outside the store. Frowning deeply, the young man who he crossed paths with at the orphanage was perusing the content as if he was famished for news. In fact, his lips moved a little as if reading word for word and then he directed his stare into the distance, his countenance pensive.

“Jack?” Dean tried, taking tentative steps forward and then glancing back at Castiel who understood the familiarity at once.

Immediately the teenager focused his cool gaze onto the approaching man and his face switched into a beaming smile. “Hi! It’s…you...from the..”

“Orphanage,” Dean said, chuckling and closing the distance with so much amusement. “Thought I’d never see you again. Was actually going to swing by and check up on your progress. You know…whether you decided to own your life instead of hanging out with those assholes…”

Jack squared his shoulders and would always be the deliverer of a warming smile that could melt anyone’s heart. “I have claimed back my power,” he said proudly, chin lifting up triumphantly. “In fact, I have good news for you…”

“Yeah?” Dean held his breathe as Castiel slid an arm around his waist comfortingly. “What’s happened?”

“My mother came back for me,” he said proudly, rolling up the newspapers and pressing money into the vendor’s hand. “Actually, she said that it was never her intention to let me leave but my father…he is a bad man.” Jack frowned, the thought unsettling him tremendously. “She left him and is now renting a house here in Littleton. I’ve actually moved in with her.”

“Look how rainbows just appear out of nowhere,” Dean said incredulously to Castiel, smiling and shaking his head. “Damn, that’s fantastic, man. I’m so glad you’re reunited with her. No parent should ever let their kid go just because…”

“My dad may never accept that I am gay, but my mother does. And I have friends.”

“Yeah you do. Counting me, Cas, Charlie in…we’ve got your back anytime you need us. In fact,” after pulling out his phone, he encouraged Jack to save his number, both of them promising to check in with each other from time to time.

It wasn't long after they were back on the road and Castiel asked Dean to turn into quite a familiar road that led to a very special place for them. Years had gone by, so many and still the journey felt like yesterday, so many New Year Eves, words that were unsaid and were revealing themselves like slants of sunshine through the trees. The Impala nosed its way towards the lake that was never frozen all through winter but remained bitter cold. The myth was always the same; that an angel's grace had been buried inside the depths and would forever keep the water in a liquid state. No one really knew of the real reason why but for many years it still remained the same whilst everything around it changed with the seasons.

"You're amazing," Castiel said softly when they were seated on a thick blanket pulled out from the trunk and draped over a comfortable log. “Your heart is so pure and beautiful. You are utterly amazing.”

He turned into Dean and buried his face into the younger man's neck, the warmth immediate and soothing. Their coats were bunched up again, cushioning their bodies and feet buried deep inside their winter boots, the coldness couldn't touch them. Nothing ever could, not when they had formed a shelter around themselves that no one could penetrate after all those years.

"You're amazing too, babe," Dean said, his voice a low rumble inside his chest. "You remember when we used to come out here and skip rocks? You'd always win."

Castiel grazed his lips on the curve of the other man's neck and moaned deeply before nodding. "I taught you how to swim."

"I was so scared though." Tilting his head sideways, Dean accommodated the searching kisses and his toes curled. "I kept thinking that you'd let me go."

"I'm never going to ever let you go," Castiel croaked, tears squeezing through his closed eyelids. He entwined their gloved hands and tightened the grasp before snaking an arm around the other man's waist under his jacket. "I promise to love you until I can't breathe anymore and when I'm gone, I'm going to love you even when I'm in Heaven and we meet in another life—"

"Cas," Dean's throat ached and tears burned his eyes so much that he blinked them away.

"I can't live without you," Castiel's voice was reduced to a throaty quality and he nuzzled his face deeper into the scent of Irish Spring. "When I'm away from you all I can feel is an emptiness that is so painful. When you were lying in that hospital…motionless…I thought I was going to lose you and every single part of me started to die because there is no me without you, Dean."

"You're so soft right now, Cas…"

"Because that’s what you do to me," blue eyes searched for green ones until they were drowning without even slipping into the lake. "You've reduced me into someone who cannot ever be strong and fierce in your presence. I used to be able to scold you, to…argue with you and now, there is an inability of me attempting such things. Dean, I'm so in love with you, I keep falling more and more every single day. How is that even possible?"

Cheeks turning crimson, the younger man bit in his smile and tried a shrug. "Me being an expert in baby things turned you mellow, huh?"

Castiel clipped Dean's left earlobe between his lips and sucked, unearthing a soft moan. "Yes, very mellow. I'm mushy and it's embarrassing because you're slowly changing me into something as soft as that stuffed bee you gave me for Christmas. Which by the way, sleeps alone in my bed these days. He's developed this pitiful expression that dares me to hug him. Where on earth did you find the trench coat in his own size?"

"The Castiel Gift Center—"

"Assbutt," the older man chuckled against Dean's cheek, then their eyes turned to study the lake, the setting so serene and it was their own hideaway, where no one really discovered after all these years which made the place so special for them alone. "Dean," Castiel said after a while, when their hearts slowed and they both folded into each other's embrace.

"Talk to me, huggy bear."

"I don't want to keep secrets from you, so there are two things I need to address although on one of those matters, your father warned that I shouldn't divulge the information." When Dean hummed in approval, the older man released the breath he was holding from being anxious and then he sighed. "The encounter in the gas station wasn't on impulse."

"I could already guess that…they were hanging around there as if they were tipped off by someone, you know?"

"And that someone was Crowley," Castiel said softly, even after green eyes turned to stare, as wide as saucers, he understood that the information was a bit too much to process fast enough for an immediate response. Thus he waited, his countenance searched and he bared it all in the open between them, revealing how angered the truth made him, and how he despised the criminal so much. "Rest assured he will never step into the sunlight again."

The silence afterwards though became a little painful enough to warrant Castiel's further scrutiny upon the face of a young man who was determined to cast his glare onto the lake. If his heated green eyes could gain enough power, he would have simmered the water to accompany steam. But then gradually, he swallowed and nodded before inhaling deeply.

"I guess I saw that coming a mile away. I mean, he always had it out for us so I'm an easy target and he knew that if he touched me, it would piss you off so…I'm not surprised."

"He could have killed you, Dean," Castiel said stiffly, his eyes filling with tears. "Don’t you understand that? They were told to leave scars, to…wound you until your face was too bruised, your body too battered. I almost lost you. I sat there next to your bed and felt the worst pain I've ever felt in my life, like someone was ripping my heart out of my chest. And I will settle at nothing less than ensuring that he feels the same and even worse until he cannot hurt anyone else. No one…" the older man croaked when their gaze deepened and he tasted his own tears, "…absolutely no one is allowed to hurt you. I will annihilate them if it's the last thing I do."

"Just don't get your hands dirty, okay?" Dean pleaded, his voice dipping as he softened from the words. "Please don’t do anything that would take you away from me, that would lock you in a jail cell and then I can't live the rest of my life with you. I'd have to break you out or make sure that I get in there to be with you."

"Balthazar is taking care of it, because of course he's well-versed in revenge and he has a vast amount of friends with benefits so rest assured, my hands are clean."

"And the other thing?" Dean tried to swallow the actuality of someone placing a hit on him when he absolutely did nothing to warrant such a thing. Of all the injustices in the world, he was someone's punching bag, just to make a statement, and maybe it was wrong to feel prideful of the selection but for once in his life, he was determined to be his true self and he wasn't about to accept defeat. "You said there were two things you wanted to tell me."

"I've added your name to all that I own," Castiel said softly, receiving a look of utter astonishment. "My savings, my share in the estate which of course Balthazar has left me because of his properties around the world. My cars, all of them belong to you, being the two Bentleys, the Audi and the Mercedes Benz. There is a house I own in Scotland near Loch Laggan, which of course resembles a small castle that I will take you to very soon. All of it is yours—"

"Cas," Dean croaked, tears already leaking down his face and dripping onto the sleeves of his coat. His lips quivered and he couldn't decide whether to smile or cry. "Shit, are you serious? Have you done all of that? I don't…" he swallowed hard and rested their foreheads together, drowning in something that felt like a dream, "Cas, I don't need all of those things though, you know that, right? All I want is you."

"I want you too, Dean. I want you to have all I have. I want you to move in with me, to have your own office where you will prepare your notes for class, peruse your learning content, become the best teacher you can. I want you to have your own closet filled with as much plaid as you wish, and we will go shopping as soon as Monday. Clothes, shoes, a wealth of Irish Spring, Taylor Swift albums and your own piano where you can practice again—"

"I love you so much," Dean interrupted because his heart was overflowing and there were tears in his eyes still and he was crying then sobbing. Burying his face into the older man's chest, he was tenderly touched, held like he was the most precious thing in the world. His hands were squeezed, curling up like a comma into the man he loved and when they were simply drained from words and tears, they both returned to the car.

It wasn’t long before Dean's space was invaded again though, Castiel pushing the keys onto the dash and with their eyes glued together, something awakened between them. It was dangerously raw, had so much meaning and erupted in a manner of seconds with the peeling away of the older man's jeans, at least with Dean empowering himself to complete that task. Castiel was desperate for something that felt so distant already although days away, and he desired nothing more than to claim it again, to move through the motions tenderly of course whilst learning from the other man's responses whether he was hurting him in any way.

By the time they were freed of their jeans, their thick tights disappeared afterwards and despite the bitter winter outside, there was only a building furnace inside of the Impala. The reaching of hands, their lips crushing together and tongues greeting like old, intimate friends. The way Dean collected Castiel's hands, bit each gloved finger and pulled one by one with their eyes latched together, until he tossed those aside and moved onto shrugging off the black leather jacket. It was so magical and so daring to expose themselves in such a manner in the middle of nowhere. Where the lake glistened from the sun which provided no heat, the trees remained still and the sounds of nature were silenced.

Castiel was so enthralled by the progress they made in a matter of seconds, their jeans twisted on the ground and looped around the steering wheel. He couldn’t believe how thirsty they were to feel each other without clothes, in any way possible, those green eyes searched his own deeply with a sense of yearning that was quite clear. By the time his hands were trying to search for buttons to undo on Dean's sweater, his mind was spinning dangerously and he was quite familiar with the need welling up inside.

He _needed_ so much more instead of allowing them to sit beside each other and use their sense of touch. He wanted to be bold and adventurous and immediately, Castiel swung a thigh over Dean's legs, taking a hold of his shoulders and he settled on the younger man's lap, skin on skin never felt so intoxicating. It was like a wave of heat and a longing like a throbbing ache inside of his gut that seemed to increase when their lips danced nearer.

"Fuck," breathed Dean, gasping from the raw contact and rolling his hips forward. "Cas, suppose someone…finds us?"

"No one…will," Castiel collected Dean's face between his palms and his bottom lip nudged those perfect lips apart. He then claimed a kiss that was deeper than the first one, the blanket pooling around their waists and concealing most of what was not clothed. Except for them exposed from the hips downwards, it would seem as if they were merely sharing a passionate kiss when all of such assumptions were quite wrong. "Are you comfortable? Does it hurt?"

"I'll be damned if it does," Dean grumbled, collecting the older man's shoulders within his grasp and squeezing.

"I'm serious," Castiel's forehead creased in concern whilst he tenderly touched the light bruises on such a handsome face. "If there is any—"

"Can you shut up and kiss me?" Dean raked his fingers upwards, driving pathways through dark disheveled hair before lifting himself off the seat and grinding their hips together again. The low sinful moan he unearthed from the older man was so toe curling that his insides melted. "All that talk just now started a damn fire inside of me. I just want you to kiss me until I can't breathe."

He couldn't resist, could he? Castiel locked their lips together and searched deeper for something that only their souls could discover, the kind of kiss that was slow and beautiful. So beautiful was the progress of their love making that they couldn't even peel themselves away from each other, all the time there was a desperate need to stay glued together, to take all there was to offer. And no matter how long they stayed drowning in each other's taste, nothing else mattered but what was happening in their own world.

"You taste like watermelon," Dean said hoarsely, their lips still touching and chests heaving. He rested their foreheads together and stared into pools of blue. "And sugar. Why the hell do you taste like a Harry Styles song, Cas?"

"I'm wearing lip balm because my…lips…the weather…" Castiel couldn't breathe, his knees digging into the soft leather seat as Dean sunk lower, allowing him to tower above. "If I don't…my lips tend to…peel…and you wouldn’t want to kiss me—"

"I'd kiss the hell out of those lips in any state they're in. You wearing lip balm is sexy as fuck."

"It's necessary."

"It turns me on even more, so much that I want to keep tasting you over and over again."

"Then taste me," Castiel said softly, rubbing their cheeks together as his eyes fluttered close and he raked his fingers through dark blonde hair. "I'm all yours, Dean. Take anything you want from me. I'm begging you to."

Their kisses were so explosive that the world simply faded, the light snow that began to drift downwards wasn't even registered by their minds. They were too captivated in drowning that they were too far gone and because their intoxication overwhelmed them in a cloud of deep and lusty desire, everything just unfolded so naturally.

Castiel wasn’t even aware how needy he could become, how his fingers sought out Dean, still hard and straining. They were trying to reach that level of kissing which peeled away their layers and exposed their souls out in the open when he raked his fingers up Dean's heaving chest and pushed him deeper into the seat. He kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like they were spending their last moments on earth and would be pulled apart.

Could it be possible to suffocate and die from kissing?

Could lovers become so captivated by each other that they devoured and savored and consumed until there was nothing left?

What began as a simple act of giving each other the luxury of lathering up with lube ended up into something which was very spontaneous on Castiel's side.

All of it happened so slow, the pain was there but blissful when he filled himself up with Dean whilst sitting on his lap, slowly though, inch after inch. Their eyes remained on each other, green ones stunned by the boldness and the clarity of how far they had come. It was so overwhelming for Castiel to feel how he could be so complete in every possible way by a man who loved him without any limits. A man who gazed at him with wide, listless eyes, who wrapped his arms around him and held him so tightly. The intrusion was hot and searing and Castiel closed in around Dean's cock so tightly that they simply stayed there without moving for a while.

Their chests heaved uncontrollably, their fingertips burned trails down each other's backs and there were no words. Even when they stared at each other in astonishment, their parted lips trembled from the actuality of what was happening. Both of them were on the verge of shattering, burning bright with fire and when they started to move, their cries were guttural.

Castiel couldn't contain himself, he simply used his voice through every thrust until his eyes were filled with tears. Until he buried his face into Dean's neck and bit down hard, choking on his body's anticipated climax. Over and over again they rocked into each other, experiencing a very new position that was entirely strategic and intimate.

It was beautiful how they fitted together despite believing before that their bond could not produce anything close to normal. And when Castiel finally came, it was a long and weakening kind of orgasm that knocked the breath out of his lungs and caused him to ball his fists into Dean's sweater. It was like his body was bursting into a million pieces, a fever like a volcano that seeped through his pores. He spilled so much between them, draining himself so easily that the blanket was comforting.

Castiel struggled to push through the haze of his passion, resting their foreheads together and feeling firm hands wrapping around him, keeping him in place whilst they rocked one more time. "Dean…" he choked, stumbling for words and brushing their lips together.

"Stay with me—"

The string of words to follow were incomprehensible as Castiel gingerly rubbed his face into the younger man's hair and folded over him, coming again with a wave of pleasure that was searing and mind-blowing. The position probably was allowing Dean to reach the most sensitive places but all together it was unlike before. It was like he was burning up inside and intermingled with a deep gut wrenching feeling that was overwhelming and beautiful.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" Dean rubbed their noses together and dared a soft kiss but there was no reciprocation, just the rocking that continued and silence. "Cas?" those blue eyes squeezed shut, and the creased forehead. "Look at me, babe. Can you…do that?"

Slowly nodding, Castiel removed his balled fists and collected Dean's shoulders before he gazed into pools of green. He inhaled deeply and chewed on his lips as they settled into a slow rhythm before ceasing to move all together. There they stayed whilst Dean's fingers curled behind his ears and because he was so breathless, the older man tried to regain some composure because he couldn’t even string words together. He couldn't settle his heart from racing, his body from opening up and being consumed with immense pleasure, every single inch of movement curled his toes and blinded him.

"Next time we should uh…" Dean stumbled nervously because he wasn't seasoned either, "…you know, maybe prep like before instead of jumping into it. I mean, nothing's wrong with going bold but I don't feel like you were really prepared to… _take_ all of me so fast, if you know what I mean. And I'm not saying that I don't want this…" he carried on as his voice dipped, "I just don't want to hurt you."

"You're not," Castiel said softly, eyes fluttering close as he still affectionately rubbed their faces together whilst his fingers raked through dark blonde hair. "I really like it."

"But I don't want to…get in there and leave you bruised…I don't know how it feels but it must hurt like a bitch. And…this damn conversation is getting weird, especially since I'm still _in_ you…are we really talking about this?"

Chuckling, his chest heaving still from accommodating all of Dean, Castiel nodded. "Leave it to us to be ridiculously weird about something like sex…whilst _in the process_ of making love to each other."

"Should we stop?"

"Stop what?" Castiel's eyes widened, extremely blue and darkened by passion. "Please don't. I want you to keep going until I don't have a voice left."

"Cas…" Dean's look of utter amazement seemed to deliver his absolute fear of what resided between such a request. "I don't think we should hit the accelerator on this, especially since we're out here. I like the impulsive and reckless thing we got going on but—fuck!" Castiel resumed the pace that was slow and so nerve wrecking that Dean couldn't contain himself, especially since they fitted so tightly together that he lifted himself off the seat and came hard.

The immediate release was blinding for him, he cried out hoarsely, actually both of them did because the older man followed shortly after with waves that rolled them both under. They couldn't keep up with their bodies' reacting, drawing out a sequence of climax that was powerful beyond anything they experienced together before. Both of them held each other's faces between hands that trembled, searching wide gazes, and understanding that it was so much more than they ever anticipated, that Dean couldn't refrain from switching up positions.

By the time Castiel was under him and squirming on the leather seat, he picked up the pace, the older man wrapping his legs around him and seeking out a deep kiss. Their moans filled the car whilst it rocked, but Castiel was loud when their lips parted, as he was before by crying out hoarsely until there was nothing left. Until he was listless again whilst Dean rocked into him and when they both came again, it was riveting to a point where they struggled in each other's arms from the severity of it all.

The older man's tears trailed down his cheeks from the beauty in pain, the way his body gave in and embraced all of it, opening up and accommodating. He wanted this and maybe it was because of spending more than two years yearning to feel what it could be like, what they could accomplish together, but he didn't want to ever let any of it go. In fact, his sex drive possibly was fueled by the recent events of almost losing Dean and fearing that he may never be able to experience what they achieved through making love for years to come. And because of that fear of losing someone so special to him in the blink of an eye, he was compelled to make every moment last.

When they were well spent, still shuddering and too weak to pull on their pants, Dean held Castiel in his arms whilst they stared at the flat surface of the lake. Under the blanket, their fingers remained entwined, the older man's left leg draped over Dean's right. Their bodies were glued together, cells merging and forming a whole new definition of soul mates where there was no separation between them. There was nothing about revealing themselves to each other anymore that would be considered as shameful or would warrant nervousness. Instead they had reached a level where their love making was natural and beautiful and explorative and phenomenal.

Later that evening a game of Twister commenced with the leading couple being Sam and Jess, followed by Charlie and Dorothy. John of course resided by the fire with a blanket wrapped around his legs, Bobby seated next to him and a six pack of beer resting in the middle, and the table in the far corner was circled by the three high school friends being Jody, Donna and Ellen. Castiel, of course joined them shortly whilst Dean kept scores on the game that unfolded into a fit of laughter every couple of seconds. And despite the loud conversations and happy faces, the twins were sound asleep upstairs and the baby was wrapped like a taco and cushioned upon the table in front of the women.

"I suppose it's not surprising that it was him," Jody said softly, referring to Crowley, stirring her coffee with extra milk slowly and staring at Ellen across the table. "The bastard always had a vendetta for us in high school. Always the one weird kid who wanted to stick himself in like a sore thumb in our midst."

"Can you believe he was actually going steady with Mary's friend from Craft…what was her name?" Donna pondered on the thought until the light bulb ignited in Ellen's mind.

"Irish Foster, the hottest girl in school. Damn her jugs were famous." A loud peal of laughter emanated from the three of them before everyone's glances returned to their selected corners.

Castiel remained quiet, preferring wine that evening and rather much absorbing the scene around him, coupled with his friends reminiscing. He could have been very chatty but there was a certain sense of serenity that settled on his disposition, which of course was mostly affected by the day's events. The justification that he was more than satisfied could be felt deep down inside where a fire was flickering, and for the time being, the desire to linger near Dean was of little import.

He was quite jovial whilst keeping score and his laughter was like music to the older man's ears, his animated gestures quite attractive and for the first time in a long time, Dean seemed to be beyond happy. This wasn't like Boxing Day when their family gathering brought with it a heavy tension in the air between them. Neither could have enjoyed the meeting because of their prickly feelings but now…Dean was flourishing with flushed cheeks, sparkling green eyes and the kind of smiles that stretched his handsome face into a very pleasing sight.

For Castiel, these things were the most important, the moments when he could simply sit and recall the many years they entertained these kinds of gatherings, with the exception of Charlie, Bobby and Dorothy of course, but nevertheless it all felt the same. But over those years, he could have only admired Dean as a guardian would, and before he fell in love with him so intensely, Castiel would have cast a fond gaze onto the young man who played the piano, strummed on his guitar, baked and shared out a variety of goodies during those occasions and most of all, he reveled in his warmth of domesticity.

It wasn't something terrible to label him as homely, but it was beautiful because the aura suited him, the family friendly spirit who everyone adored and wished the best for. Now he was in love and belonged to no other than someone who sat at the table and felt contented with himself because he was absolutely the luckiest man in the world. Castiel was so determined to make the most of the evening that his excitement radiated until Ellen nudged his arm and pleaded for him to relax.

"Damn you are like a ticking time bomb," she whispered, trying to exclude the other two women from the conversation. "Your eyes are electric and they remind me that a storm's coming. Which is another thing I told Bobby just yesterday," she turned to point a finger at Jody who stalled on sipping her coffee. "I told him hell, it ain't going to get better just cause the winter's come and going. We get thunderstorms that make it rain like a bitch in January so all those leaking places on the ceiling need fixing. I might have to climb up and patch em up myself."

"This one here leaves me to do all the handiwork," Jody jerked her chin at her wife who was smiling widely and bundled up in a denim jacket. "So I get what you're trying to say. But Cas here doesn't have that kind of problem. Dean would fix anything that's broken around the house."

"Like he always does," Ellen nodded and winked at her friend who gazed back with wide blue eyes. "He fixes all sorts of things. He bakes, he cooks, cleans, does plumbing, works on his car, paints, mows the lawn, shovels snow, does shopping…the perfect husband, ain't he, Cas?"

An immediate flushed countenance, fingers curling on the table, pools of blue as wide as saucers and then…

"Excuse me," and quickly rising up from the table, the older man stiffly wound his way through the game of Twister and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jess stopped propping Sam up and both of them tumbled onto their stomachs, whilst Charlie struggled to maintain her position and succeeded until Dorothy snorted and the entire game crumbled. Dean too immediately latched onto Castiel leaving the room in a haste and he stared because evidently something was wrong. And he was so skilled in deciphering the older man's temperaments that the bond between them tugged in a desperate plea for assistance. He then decided to give up the scoring and go after Castiel but Ellen rose up, winked at him and she took the lead.

For ten full minutes the two of them didn't return, the kitchen door pulled shut and everyone else resuming their actions prior. But Dean was distracted and he almost forgot that he was tasked with scoring until Sam demanded that he pull his attention back into the game. Those green eyes constantly flicked towards that part of the house though, where a conversation was obviously occurring and he was clueless what the issue was. Could it be him? Was something happening that he wasn't aware of? Was it Crowley?

It couldn't be them because they were more than happy at that point but maybe there were things he wasn't privy to as yet. Maybe Castiel ran into a problem and couldn't discuss it with him because Ellen served as a better audience and she exceeded him in years. Dean frowned deeply, cast his eyes to the clipboard and sighed because he suddenly decided that the age gap would always place him at a disadvantage in certain areas. There were things Castiel would be involved in that he may never be able to participate in such as the older man's job or the affairs of the estate.

Castiel was so mature, and had been forced to become a man at a very young age because of his family's struggles. He had also been working for twenty seven years whilst Dean was now about to head out into the field of teaching. Why the doubts? Why was he suddenly feeling like the people around him were older and wiser and he was a child when—

"Dean!" Charlie waved a hand in front of his face, "dude, are you okay? You literally spaced out for like fifteen minutes."

"Huh?" he blinked hard and stared at her worried countenance before the healthy conversation in the room consumed his mind again. The roar of the ocean of doubts wasn't there anymore but replaced by a prickly feeling resting on his skin, signaling that a storm was indeed coming but it wasn't just the one outside. Call it a premonition but something else was brewing quite enormous and he couldn’t quite decipher what it could be.

"We're going to head out onto the back porch to light firecrackers and drink more beer, so you've got to come with us." She held out a hand and he accepted it, then he was tugged onto his feet. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you were somewhere else that you didn't really like."

"I guess you can say that and yeah, I'm alright," he shrugged, rested the clipboard on the nearest table and realized that Castiel was again seated beside Ellen, accompanied by Jody and Donna. The two of them were carrying on a conversation about the best way to concoct homemade wines and the older man appeared relaxed so most likely whatever had troubled him earlier died away.

"Dean, nothing's wrong with you," Charlie said softly as they headed towards the backdoor and she held onto his arm, "I just feel like you need to hear that."

In fact, her words stunned him, braced him with the actuality of Charlie being so empathetic like himself that she could read his emotions so well. "Thank you. That really helps."

He hugged her, really embraced Charlie into his arms so tightly and they simply stayed there on the back porch whilst Sam brought out a red cooler filled with beers, Jess and Dorothy fixed cushions on the ground then spread blankets on them. All five of them plopped onto the bed of softness, everyone of course resorting to settling in their lover's arms except for Dean. And it wasn't so difficult to quickly feel pained by the blaring truth, but they never emphasized on the natural arrangement of things. Thus, he was left to sit in silence, sipping a cold beer and feeling his heart ache a little from what seemed to be evident again…

All of them were hanging out because they were the young ones in the family, Charlie was paired with Dorothy who just so happened to be twenty-five like Dean. Sam at twenty one tugged his wife nearer and planted a kiss on her head, she being twenty. And Dean's other half exceeded all of them by being in excess of twenty years older, so he was the odd one out. He was entirely at fault for pondering on such things but when the truth was shining like the sun in his face, nothing could erase that from his mind.

"Oh! How about ghost stories?" Charlie piped up and again, she tugged her friend back into the present because he was sailing somewhere in the ocean alone and saddened. "How about we pretend we're around a campfire?"

"The library at Stanford is haunted," Sam provided with a smile. "I can tell you about the things I've seen…"

"I've heard these stories so many times…" Jess began and everyone chuckled, "they're pretty old to me, so don't be surprised when I'm not terrified by what he tells you."

"Last year March," the younger Winchester began after everyone seemed eager, resting his beer upon the floor and swallowing. He ran his thumb across the lip of the bottle thoughtfully and tried to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Never told Dean this one because really and truly he thinks I'm making it up as I go. But me and two of the guys, we stayed back like after nine to study. See, most times when exams come around, the library opens up twenty four seven so…there we were way at the back by this window that overlooks the lawns and I remember it was raining because I always want to sleep when it rains and I was getting real tired because of the weather…"

Dean rolled his eyes but remained silent because Sam was always the best storyteller since he was younger and one could never ascertain whether he was being honest.

"So Jacob, one of my buddies got up to stretch and he just stands there, frozen, staring out the window," Sam continued whilst Charlie stared at him with wide green eyes, huddled in Dorothy's arms. "I was like, yo bro, we're on the clock here. Exam's tomorrow and we got a shitload of case files to go through. And I swear, he just turns to us and he's as white as a ghost. And he goes…'Cher's out there…' and I'm like—"

"Come on, man!" Dean protested, throwing a displeased look and receiving a chuckle from Charlie. " _Cher_? Really? You sure it wasn't Meryl Streep or Tina Turner."

"That's what I thought!" Sam said quickly and passionately, "dude, I thought he was fucking with us so I got up…and I went over and when I looked out the damn window, there was a lady standing out there in the rain dressed in these like…" he gestured at himself for emphasis, "tattered clothes…a black dress and wild black hair and she was smiling at us. She was actually fucking smiling at us."

"It gets better," Jess assured them with a warm smile, "it all gets better when this whoosh of wind swept in and just scattered her into a million streaks of greyness," she held out her arms and beamed around at them, her husband providing a scowl, "and she just disappeared because they were all high on weed, right?"

"Don't talk to me," Sam shrugged away her touch dramatically and turned the other way, appearing quite petulant enough to unearth laughter from the young people gathered around him. "And because you've ruined it, I'm definitely _not_ going to tell you about the other campus stories. So, Dean…since you're so smug right now, why don't you tell us one of your tales?"

"Me?" the older Winchester stared back and couldn't deprive himself of smiling from Jess' slight towards his brother, "guess the only thing I can think of is the one time you ran across the moor completely naked because I dared you to. Now _that_ was scary—"

"Why must you all pick on the handsome one?" emerald eyes sparkling, Sam folded his arms and narrowed his scrutiny on Dean mostly, "alright fine, fine enough. Listen, I'll go inside and grab some snacks whilst you all ridicule me behind my back."

"I'll get the snacks," Dean decided that the heaviness from the two pairs who were quite loving seemed to suffocate him and thus quickly he stood up before Sam unfolded his lanky frame. "You guys come up with a good ghost story by the time I get back."

Because he was far too skilled in deciphering the younger Winchester's antics, Dean smoothly hopped over the long leg that quickly extended and he turned to stick his tongue out. The clownish face his brother returned was very close in resemblance to a completely distorted ghoul that his snort was followed shortly by a loud burst of laughter. Pulling open the door leading into the kitchen, Dean dusted his boots out before hopping indoors and he wasn't even conscious of the space being occupied.

From the moment the outdoors was locked away and inside greeted him with hushed conversations, their eyes met and of course Castiel was helping himself to more wine, which immediately dusted the younger man in worry. A prior occasion swept into Dean's mind, of slurred words and an abundance of the word 'fuck'. He was instantly confused and anxious because from the moment they studied each other, Castiel's guilt shone like a lighthouse beam and Dean was quite convinced of one thing; the drinking was fueled by something very troubling.

He couldn't believe his earlier suspicions were ringing true now; that a storm was indeed brewing and there it was, facing him like a tornado. "Cas?"

"Yeah, um," the older man diverted his eyes and rested the bottle of merlot upon the counter, already halfway consumed, "I know how this might appear quite disturbing but…believe me, my actions are justified."

What could even persuade him to choose alcohol?

"Babe, what's going on?" Dean slowly approached with fear resting on his chest and he carefully pressed a palm upon Castiel's back. Slowly his fingers glided upwards until they raked their way through disheveled hair. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine. Really I am."

"So, you're just drinking for the occasion?"

Castiel nodded, pushed the wine bottle away with his index finger and leaned a hip onto the counter. "I am entitled to, aren't I? 2020 thus far has been quite eventful for me and I'm allowed to digress from cups of tea and…bottles of sparkling water. Why are you judging me, Dean?"

"I’m not, okay?" the younger man's cupped fingers caressed Castiel's light stubble before he settled his thumb upon the older man's bottom lip and gazed into pools of blue. "I'd never judge you. How can you even think that for a second? It's not like we don't know each other through and through by now."

The bottle was reached for again and the lip slowly caressed like a lover's touch. "Maybe we don't. I know you'd like more from me, and I promise that I'll give you everything there is eventually—but I’m always meeting you halfway…"

"Cas, what are you talking about, man?" Dean frowned, his throat closing up from the choice of words that began to scratch upon his skin, causing him to worry immensely. "So far, you've given me more than I've ever dreamt about. There's nothing else that I want right now except you."

Castiel tilted his head, eyes lowered onto the floor and he licked his lips slowly before sighing. "Okay."

"Well, I want to marry you," Dean admitted out loud, his gaze latched onto a pair of eyes that simply would not meet his own. "That's going to happen, right?"

"Not for now, it wouldn't. There is unfinished business that needs to be smoothened out. For instance, we are still under construction and although I'd like to jump into spending the rest of my life with you, we mustn't do so recklessly."

What?

Dean felt like a freight train literally ran through him at full speed, knocking the wind out of his lungs and there were no words, just instant numbness. A sense of coldness settled in his mind like a draft filling a room, frosted air and icicles choking him until he tried to swallow but his eyes burned.

Intoxication, it seemed, brought out the most hurtful words from Castiel, words that sliced thinly but drew blood and Dean understood that he was indeed overthinking the situation but he still felt the wounds. He understood that they weren't exactly about to jump into something as close to marriage but he wouldn't have believed that Castiel would consider their relationship as under construction.

"Dean, would you like some wine?" the bottle was held out and he could feel his chest constricting, like the air from a balloon slowly draining away.

It was almost midnight already. Where did the time go? Everyone was having so much fun and his world seemed to be clouded by a darkness that crept in and gnawed at his beliefs.

"I hate wine," he said softly. "More of a whisky and beer kind of guy. Actually, I've been laying back on taking a beer just because you said alcohol is not something you like us to indulge in. But since you're having wine, I guess I can hit a few beers." Sarcasm wasn't his forte, it was very much Castiel's area of expertise.

"Then you do that."

"I will," Dean connected their eyes and highlighted that blue ones were still mellow and filled with complete love and adoration for him, despite the prior statement that they were still _under construction_. Those two words would possibly haunt him into the New Year but he was allowed to feel the knife sink in.

12:58.

And just like clockwork, the brood from the living room wound their way into the kitchen and passed by the couple staring at each other before heading into the backyard. It was always like this; tradition encouraged them to gather outdoors so that they could all welcome the New Year in the refreshed night wind. No matter how chilly it was, Ellen always braved it without a coat, John bundled up in many layers like a burrito and Dean…well he couldn't even move.

Castiel though, seemed to be quite stolid that nothing registered on his face. "I think we should accompany the others. Hmm?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean's voice was reduced to a throaty quality as tears filled his eyes although he fought it. "Why the hell not? Because hopefully 2021 doesn't feel like a roller coaster ride between us, all the damn time—"

"Dean—"

"Don't say anything else, man, you…" the younger man turned towards the backdoor and inhaled deeply, "enjoy your wine and don't worry about me." And without waiting, he strode out the door, blindly swiped at his tears and jogged down the steps onto the crunch of snow beneath his boots.

Everyone was waiting there, Charlie turning around instantly to greet him with a wide grin and after he decided that she alone would be able to comfort him, he headed in her direction. But Dean should have known that something was awry from the moment he highlighted the group casting their eyes everywhere else but on each other. The grin that was too wide and revealing on his friend's face. The way Sam could never conceal the truth but kept glancing at him and then it all happened so fast, he stopped breathing when the first moment unfolded.

At first, Dean wasn't conscious of why the snow suddenly illuminated around him and Charlie, but then he understood that the shock of what had occurred in the kitchen could have forced his mind to become sluggish. The tea lights arranged in a heart shape, so many of them that cast a warm yellow on the snow. The way his lungs ceased to exist and the bite of the wind felt harsher. His fingertips grew colder inside his gloves. The depth of his gaze as he searched Charlie's eyes and only detected her bashful countenance before she slowly began to step backwards and out of the shape of light.

Then the crunch of snow behind him and he was so confused, afraid, anxious, exhilarated at the same time, when Dean turned around and highlighted Castiel slowly closing the distance between them, he couldn't will his mind to work. Nothing seemed to be operating inside of his body but eyes that locked with blue ones and the hammering away of his heart until it probably died inside of his chest. Because from the moment the older man stepped into the heart illuminated on the snow, Dean felt that storm shift around them until they were standing in the eye and the entire world was placed on mute.

From the moment Castiel reached out and collected his left hand, Dean was so terrified that he blinked too fast and became dizzied, even as the black leather glove he had on was slipped off slowly. There was nothing that resembled the uneasiness felt between them moments ago, nothing that suggested that they were standing on rocky ground, or under construction when Dean gave up his fingers to be held tenderly. And all around him eyes were sparkling, the dark sky felt like it was pressing downwards and he started to tremble from anxiety.

"As you are aware, I am terrible at speeches because my words can become quite abundant and may turn into a novel…" Castiel's voice shook as his lips twitched into a wide, nervous smile. "But when it comes to you, everyone knows by now that I will never grow tired of talking about you incessantly. I will never stop because the one thing that defines my true happiness is and always has been you."

Dean's eyes welled up with tears so fast, he blinked through the haze whilst his lips quivered and despite feeling like their earlier conversation sounded definite; that nothing of what he suspected would happen soon; he could have only stood there and try to survive whatever this moment was between them.

But when Castiel surprised all the feelings out from him by lowering himself onto one knee, the first thing that swept into his mind was that the snow would seep through those black jeans and gave the older man's knee a chill. Until he looked down and stared at the cleared away area around them and then he realized that this wasn't just ad hoc; this was like a row of dominoes being carefully set, now tumbling down one by one. And when the actuality of what was occurring before him finally sunk in because why would Castiel get down on one knee whilst simply delivering a speech, his right hand flew up to cover his parted lips.

The only words that rang through Dean's mind were _oh god oh god oh god oh god._ _This is actually happening to me. I must be dreaming. I possibly am still in a goddamn coma and the world is unfolding inside of my head._

"My love," Castiel said in a weak tone, still holding onto his fingers and connecting their eyes fondly, "my beautiful darling, there is no unfinished business as I tried to fool you into thinking. So…" a red velvet box was produced and the lid thumbed open until the ring that shone from its depths seemed like a star from heaven, "Dean, will you please marry me? Will you be mine forever in this life and every other life?"

The entire group around them was so silent, and because of his overwhelming emotions, the sobs shook him until he couldn't even find strength within himself. He was being proposed to. Actually being asked by Castiel to marry him, and the one thing that kept circulating in his mind was the funny vision of the two of them in wedding dresses doing a tango before a severely angered Crowley. Then he realized that they would have a wedding, it was now a definite goal, something that they would experience together, that would bind them to each other.

Dean quickly crumbled, slipping his hand away from Castiel's grasp and covering his face, shaking from crying as his arms became numb, so did his knees, his mind frosted and there was a fire burning inside of his gut that felt so beautiful. He cried in front of everyone, never even caring about their presence because in that moment so many things happened inside of his mind.

Doubting himself and his worth, believing that such a day would never arrive, that somewhere along the way he would generously screw up their relationship and suffocate from Castiel realizing that he wasn't the one. Dreaming of that moment, of a proposal which didn't seem to come at all and almost felt like it wouldn’t arrive sooner. Like they would spend a few more months together trying on this like a pair of socks and after it grew too worn, they would slip it off and continue along their separate paths. But _this_? Coming to terms with the older man on one knee awaiting his response and the fact that he couldn’t even breathe, that he couldn't stop crying?

Dean sucked in a small amount of air and nodded at least, once then twice then a continuous flow of nods because his voice was lost. But it wasn't like before when he could have played with those three words, when he could have waited and debated and dwelled in his inability to voice his feelings. This time, his response was desired and most of all, such a response would alter the rest of his life.

"Yeah," he whispered, then swallowed hard before wiping away his tears. "Of course, I'll marry you…Cas."

"Well damn, I thought he'd say no, then I’d have to take off my damn belt and beat some sense into him," John whispered from somewhere in the circle, "what?" he asked harshly, "don’t shush me, Ellen. Damn you."

The process of witnessing the gold band being slipped onto his finger was the most glorious moment in Dean's entire life. He studied how Castiel's hands shook, how he cried from happiness and automatically, his fingers reached out to rake through the older man's dark hair already greying a little. Dean simply tried to reassure his lover that they were in their own safe bubble where nothing else mattered and from the moment their eyes met after the ring was on his finger, Castiel let out a soft sigh through his lips. He rose to his feet, was able to steady himself after Dean wound both arms around his waist and when the two of them drifted nearer, their lips simply found another moment of bliss.

The kiss was different from the others though, almost as if there was no gravity and they were being lifted off the ground in each other's arms. To Dean, it felt like a fairytale moment with the heart illuminated around them, especially how everyone just cheered loudly, happily and together. Sam and Charlie's exclamations were loudest, possibly reaching Balthazar on the other end of the moor but then when Dean pinpointed the British accent somewhere in their midst, he marveled over how much he missed in the details. And when they pulled apart, breathless as the world around them spun dangerously, they rested their foreheads together and smiled through the bliss.

"You're so mean though," Dean said softly, and brushed their lips together whilst he was still lost in a world where they were floating on a cloud of love, "what you did in the damn kitchen…"

Castiel chuckled, "I'm an excellent actor, aren't I? There was me, trying to persuade you into a different path so that the proposal would be heavily delivered onto your astonished mind."

"Cas, you literally made me feel like I was going into the New Year completely sad and heartbroken at least for a day or two. Not cool."

"Actually it was Ellen and Charlie's idea because I didn't wish to do that, but it worked perfectly, didn't it?"

"Throwing us under the damn bus, huh?" the cheerful nanny in question arrived to deliver her congratulations with tight hugs and wet kisses upon their faces and then a bright happy new year. "I figured that you needed to be kicked down from that high horse of yours to be lifted up back again. Don't look at me like that. Like Cas said, he was against it but I just wanted to see you shed some tears to make my video more emotional and award winning."

"Ellen, you didn't," Dean stared back into the face of a woman he loved so dearly as she laughed heartily and produced her phone for emphasis. "No one outside of this family will see that. Ever."

"We have to show Claire and Kaia!" Charlie piped up, wrapping her arms around her _big brother_ from behind and pressing a kiss onto his left cheek. "Like really, Dean, it was the most beautiful proposal I've ever seen and—"

The rush of the family moving in to deliver their greetings seemed to never end, and along the way Castiel was torn away from Dean to be on the receiving end of a very serious conversation by no other than John and Ellen. They weren't concerned about his reputation or promises but rather much encouraged him to pay heed to a few crucial things. For instance, the age gap was wide and although Ellen was quite familiar with what it felt like in terms of her own husband, she still reminded Castiel that Dean was very much at a younger stage in life.

He would be going into a career that separated them during the days and exhausted them at nights because of the workload. The preparations of the feeding program and becoming more involved in charity groups would also consume most of Dean's time. Castiel also would be swept into work as usual whilst people tried to balance their finances and erase their debts all year round and more so would the clientele come knocking as more people took up residence in Littleton.

"You've always wanted my boy, so you'll find a way to make it work," John provided with a nod, "just be sure that he doesn’t feel like he's not being given the attention he craves for. Dean has a funny way of getting touchy when someone he loves takes him for granted."

"Don't I know that," Ellen confirmed, arms folded as the young people drifted onto the porch and everyone was gushing over the engagement ring and the fact that Dean couldn't stop smiling and the tears from flowing. "Cas, you must be on top of the world right now. You loved him for years and fell in love with him a couple of Christmases ago and I'll be damned if you don't find a corner and melt in your own tears. This is something for you, huh?"

"It is," Castiel croaked, reaching up to neatly wipe his eyes as John gazed at him fondly, "I feel like I'm dreaming and any moment now I'll wake up to discover that none of this ever happened. Because his reciprocated feelings was never what I expected and I'm literally living the best life I could have ever asked for every single day now."

"See, that's why I was never against it to begin with," the older man provided, gathering the heavy coats around him, "knew you weren't doing this just for any simple reason and after knowing you for years, Cas, I've seen the passion and loyalty you've got when there's something or someone you allow inside of your damn heart. So, now that you've got my son, I'll have to say thank God for that and good luck with putting up with him. His obsession over baking, his habit of leaving around the damn sink wet after he washes up the plates, never gets fixing the bed right. Plus he'll drain your damn water tank just because he leaves the pipe dripping cause his hand ain't heavy. Good luck."

"Thank you, John," Castiel said softly and he understood that between the many words and criticisms, there was a very definite message; that he was pleased more than ever about the match.

"Dude, the freaking diamonds," Charlie couldn't release Dean's left hand even as they all huddled together and talked in whispers. "There're like so many."

"He obviously can't wear that whilst walking around Littleton," Sam said matter-of-factly.

Jess though nudged her husband's arm and laughed. "He wouldn't have to _walk_ anywhere now. He'll be _driven_."

"For real," Charlie stared at her friend with widened eyes, "Cas has like two Bentley's a Mercedes Benz—"

"Don't forget the Prius and Ford, both 2019 editions, plus his driver Ketch. And I mean, I'm used to seeing Cas driving around as per normal but you shouldn't turn down a driver, Dean."

"What if I want to drive my own damn car?" the older Winchester pointed out to his brother who sent him a look of utter shock. "What's wrong with Baby?"

"Good God, you can't be serious. Is he serious?" Sam glanced around at everyone who offered shrugs and smiles before he once again considered his brother. "Listen, if there's one thing you got to learn about life, is that if you accept a certain lifestyle, you wouldn't ever move up the ladder. And I'm not saying Baby isn't golden. Sure you can drive her around once and a while but if you're given the opportunity to drive a Prius, a fucking Bentley? Take it! Roll around in style, man. Let people know who they're fucking with so they wouldn't lay a hand on you anymore."

"Money does make people get really scared," Dorothy pitched in with a frown, on her fourth beer and enjoying the company. "And Sam's right. You should at least take a driver or something for a few weeks after what happened to you. People are still talking and they're just giving their mouths liberty to talk because they're jealous and can't have what you have. Apparently everyone who has a vagina in Littleton wants you or Cas. Except for the lesbians."

"Spoken like a sailor," Sam knocked their beer bottles together and smiled fondly at the young woman. "And since they can't have either of you, they'll talk against you every chance they get."

“Speaking of chances…” Dorothy mused, winking at Dean as he accepted a beer from his brother to celebrate the evening, “have you two gotten a chance to…you know…play some golf?”

“Huh?”

The generous laughter that erupted after the look of utter confusion on the older Winchester’s face only puzzled him further until Jess leaned forward and whispered heavily. Immediately he flushed a deep shade of red, eyes widening and his grasp on the bottle slackening.

“We have,” Dean said hoarsely before clearing his throat, “uh, I mean,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously and avoided eye contact, “it’s not like we could even wait _after_ marriage, you know? That would…fucking turn me into a potato.”

Charlie giggled before toeing Sam’s right calf and he immediately delivered a dirty laugh that could only signal one thing coming closely. “So we had a bet…” she said guiltily, resting her lips on the mouth of the beer bottle and grinning. “About who’s the top and who’s the bottom in the relationship.”

“Fuck,” Dorothy was really enjoying the turn of the conversation and she sat up as if tuning into a very popular radio station. “I wasn’t in this! Can I make a wager?”

“Why the hell not?” Sam showed a generous amount of teeth.

Dean though, groaned and buried his face into his left arm before deciding that the teasing would never cease. It would continue for as long as possible, with the usual laments about every single thing of an intimate nature. Just as it was with Sam, only difference is, Ellen was the main contributor.

“Dean’s the dom, and Cas is the sub,” Dorothy delivered her final verdict, and it was followed by scoffs, laughter, reactions which surprised Dean so much that he actually smiled. “Wait! Waittt….her hand was held up, “listen, there is a saying that if someone is bold in the streets, they’re fucking mellow in the sheets and Cas is by far this…” she lowered her voice, “the one who takes charge in public. He fucking owns his status. Which means…”

“No, nope,” Sam shook his head over and over again, arms folded, “I loudly disagree.”

“Me too,” both Charlie and Jess said.

“Wow,” Dean turned to either of them and could not conceal his astonishment, “just…wow. It’s so nice to know that my sex life is the topic of 60 Minutes tonight. But I’ll listen. Actually I’m freaking thrilled to hear what you all have to say.”

“You’re a bottom,” Jess said, swaying because she had too much to drink. “Just admit it. And like brother…like…brother…because this wuss here allows me to ride him like he’s my prized pony so there’s no shame in it.”

Sam colored a deep red and he puffed up so much that a swallow of beer could not deflate him for a few seconds. Thanks to Charlie who saved the embarrassment by admitting that she was a rainbow unicorn who adored her position, the taller Winchester melted. And Dean felt rather triumphant a little after his brother was knocked down a peg, laughing heartily before deciding that on all corners, everyone was opening up far too much.

“So what are you really, huh?” Dorothy pushed through the loud chatter and eyed someone approaching behind Dean. “What’s the correct answer?”

The group fell silent when Castiel ascended the steps and came onto the porch with a flushed face and a generous smile. “What’s the answer to what?” he inquired. “If I am allowed to ask…”

“Are you or are you not the top in bed?” Jess braved everyone’s embarrassment by asking boldly, since she was also very tipsy. “First time, who rode who?”

“I’m afraid that…the answer to such a question might be a little too confidential…” the older man frowned whilst lingering by the top of the stairs and his gloved fingers sought out Dean’s blonde hair. “At least I would not like to provide an answer because Dean might be very uncomfortable with it so—”

“No actually, babe, you know what?” the younger man turned up his face to gaze fondly at his fiancé, “I don’t mind at all because I want you to shut them up once. We both take turns,” Dean said proudly, leveling his eyes on his brother who remained speechless. “The best analogy would be like flipping a burger so that both sides get cooked evenly. We _both_ level each other.”

“Damn,” Dorothy said in awe, “that’s the best answer…like _ever_. Equal roles. I like it. And it’s better that way too because then things get a lot spicy when you fight each other for the top.”

Castiel though, was a little too bruised by the intrusion nature of the conversation so he waited a beat before intervening. "Please forgive me, but do you mind if I borrow Dean for a few minutes?"

"Why the hell _not_?" Charlie, Sam and Dorothy all said in unison and after realizing what happened, the entire party laughed.

"Borrow him for as long as you want," Jess winked at the older man whilst the others tried to grab at Dean's feet when he stood up, their hands weaving around like snakes. "And take your time."

Allowing their fingers to entwine, he was silently led into the house that was vacant except for the roaring fire, the sleeping baby under the tree and the twins nestled away on the couch. The warmth inside the house coupled with Dean's radiating feelings as he was tugged towards the window seat, clamping his mouth close because the spot was so beautiful and powerful between them.

For many years their friendship blossomed in that same space, dinner after dinner ending with their conversations fleshed out upon that window seat. Sitting so close to each other, shoulders bumping and faces inches apart, Dean stretched from looking up into Castiel's face to leveling their eyes out in his height. He also learned to tease the older man upon that seat, the same spot where his exercise book would remain sprawled open and Castiel taught him how to form letters in cursive, how to solve math problems, write little essays on various topics.

It was the same spot where Charlie opened that Seventeen magazine many weeks ago and read to them the signs to decipher if a guy was into you. The heaviness that hung in Dean's chest because he was drowning in feelings that his brain could not process or label. He had been suffocating from Castiel's nearness, suddenly their lack of space between each other meant the world to him. It was also the same space where when he came back from New York, Castiel first learned of his reciprocated feelings through a voice note, their first hug that felt like heaven because they couldn't tear themselves apart.

They also kissed upon that window seat after pulling the curtains around them, a deep, slow kiss that felt like sinking his toes in the warm sand instead of becoming a victim to the harsh winter outside. So that when he was finally seated and pulled into a hug, Dean laughed warmly into Castiel's neck, feeling comforting arms wrapping around him before his heart literally exploded.

“Don’t mind them” he said frowning, wondering if any judgment would be passed. “They have no filter, you know?”

“Believe me, I’m too familiar with friends who discuss sex quite openly, favorable mentions being Ellen…not forgetting my brother, of course who gives me an earful every day.” Castiel sighed, eyes lowered, “it is just so admirable…your answer to their question. I actually thought you would have labelled me as the bottom because actually…I _am_.”

“And what happened in the car today doesn’t give you a few points too?” Dean stared back in awe, “riding me like there’s no tomorrow. Jesus, Cas, you’re a match for me. No denying it. And I’m pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before you’re taking the top in bed too.”

"Maybe…who knows. Truth is…I want you to myself after what just happened between us," said the older man, rubbing his wet cheeks onto Dean's hair. "I wanted to hold you without an audience around us, to smell you, overwhelm myself by you and sink my mind into the actuality that we're now…"

"Engaged," Dean tasted the word on his tongue and it was sweet and warm and beautiful. Smiling, he rested their foreheads together and brushed their lips together. "I can't believe it, Cas. I really can't believe my best friend went down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him."

"And you cried heartily before granting me the privilege of being your fiancé."

"Jesus… _finance_ , Cas. Do you realize….like has it actually sunk in that the next thing I'll be calling you is my…" Dean's eyes welled up with tears and he completely lost himself for two seconds, "I don't know if I'm dreaming or if I'm actually lucky. None of this feels real sometimes and I literally have to pinch myself to check. Because out of all the dreams I've ever had, this one is the best one ever."

The scent of bergamot, lavender and warm apples, the wounding of arms that always held him so tenderly and protectively, and the feel of light stubble caressing his neck. All of these things became Dean's favorite moments in life, the little details that weighed down with so much love and bliss and understanding until he was dizzied and fell into Castiel's arms so effortlessly. All the world around them including the new year's fireworks which illuminated the curtain beside them didn't even serve as a distraction when they were in each other's arms. To them, their love was far too beautiful than anything else and for the first time in both their lives, they were experiencing something that would be treasured forever.

It wasn't just a profound bond anymore, it was a unified agreement that they would spend the rest of their lives together, despite the challenges that may arise, the doubts, the little quirks that may unsettle them; they would persevere. And because Dean understood that he was being blessed from such a young age with an engagement to his best friend, he couldn’t have asked for anything better. He couldn't have thought of anything more beautiful than being in love with someone like his _fiancé._

And Castiel?

Well after spending most of his life believing that he may have never been able to grant his heart the pleasures of becoming one with another…finally the moment arrived. Not only was he contented in more ways than one, but he was also elated and excited and nervous and anxious about their future together.

He couldn't wait until they were both standing at the altar, exchanging vows and finally being legally married as Mr. and Mr. Winchester…

That's right, he was prepared to claim Dean's last name, because his own title never felt warmer and more beautiful with love than the Winchester's name.

He had always been Castiel Winchester.

**THE END**

**FOR NOW**

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to follow this story!


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